Komm Zu Mir
by Luke In Blue
Summary: Oi, Fala is back! ::everyone runs:: Waaaah? Anyhoo, yes, new story. Read. Things to be warned about? Shonen-Ai, Language, references to suicide, strange random humour, and author's suckiness at summaries, bladibla... Um yeah. Please read and review.
1. Intro Thingy

**LE DISCLAIMEUR:**   
This is an obscenely long Alternate Universe fic, set in America (tho shoot me if I know exactly where...) It deals with the lives of the Sorcerer Hunters, namely Marron and Gateau, a few years older than they are in the manga. This story includes (but is not limited to) male/male love, and contains a bit of violence, possible spoilers for the movie Benny and Joon', strange random humor, bashing of Abercrombie and Fitch and some language you probably would not use in front of your grandmother. Do not read while undergoing plastic surgery or handling nervous animals. Also, I must say that the characters Marron Glace, Gateau Mocha, Carrot Glace, Tira Misu, Chocolate Misu, Eclaire Mocha, Mille Feuille, Mother, Daughter, Cerise, and Cinnamon Koocha do not belong to me, and that I'm using them for the purposes of my own (and possibly your) entertainment. Please do not sue me. That would be very mean of you. You are a NICE person who does not sue pathetic writers of fanfiction. Yeeessss... But the story IS mine. And I guess I own Danish, Currant, Mozzerella, Biscotti, Woody Chardonnay, Mousse, Apple Cora, Mrs. Hollyndaise, and the band Hornie Unicornie because I made them up. Please refrain from using them without my permission (Yeah, I'm saying this as if you'd actually want to! Ha ha ha ha ha ha! That's funny, no? Ha ha ha ha ha ha!). Are we good? We're good. Okie-dokie-artichokey, on with the fic!!! (oh, and FYI, the title means Come to Me'). That is all. Thank you and good night._  
  
_

  
I wish I was a hunter in search of different food  
I wish I was the animal that fits into that mood  
I wish I was a person with unlimited breath  
I wish I was a heartbeat that never comes to rest  
  
(Komm zu mir)  
  
I wish I was a stranger who wanders down the sky  
I wish I was a starship in silence flying by  
I wish I was a princess with armies at her hand  
I wish I was a ruler who'd make them understand  
  
(Komm zu mir)  
  
I wish I was a writer who sees what's yet unseen  
I wish I was a prayer expressing what I mean  
I wish I was a forest of trees that do not hide  
I wish I was a clearing no secrets left inside  
  
(Komm zu mir)  
  
~many lines taken from ,  
a song from Lola Rennt' (Run, Lola Run)  


  
  
**  
  
  
Komm zu Mir**  
By Fala  
  
  



	2. Gold Eyes Blue

**~PART ONE~**   
Gold Eyes Blue  


  
_He awoke, startled in sparkling imperfection_  
-John Lennon, Standing Stone'  
  
  
The metallic chime of of the old-fashioned telephone filtered in through the tearful dialogue that was playing on the telly. The hefty blond man hauled himself off of his off white sofa, paused his soap opera, and, coke bottle in hand, strode briskly in direction of the kitchen. Setting the now-flat soda on the rickety metal table, he sat himself down on the counter top, and then he picked up the receiver and put it to his ear.  
  
  
  
Hello, may I please speak to Gateau Mocha?  
  
...Oh my gods... Marron??? Gateau asked the phone upon hearing a soft, deep, and deliciously familiar voice, Is that really you?  
  
the voice replied, Is that you, Gateau?  
  
Yeah, it's me, Gateau said, trying to hide the excitement in his voice. It had been nearly four years since he'd heard from his younger, used-to-be-partner. Marron had never called him before, and now that his crush was actually on the phone, talking to him, he couldn't help but feel the hot thrill of hope fluttering in his heart, Marron, I haven't seen you for so long! How are you doing?  
  
I'm doing fine, thank you, but really busy with my academic work. I'm majoring in music theory.  
  
Music? Since when are you into music, Marron?  
  
Well, I suppose I just wanted to try something I never really would've thought about trying. Besides, I've always liked poetry and music is both magical and poetic in its own special way.  
  
That's great, Marron. So what are you, a junior now?  
  
A senior.  
  
GodDAMN you've grown up so fast!  
  
I guess. I really like college. My room mates aren't really friendly with me, much less the rest of the school, but the curriculum they have here is wonderful. And it's kind of a good thing I've developed an interest in music, because being in this band helps me pay for college intuition.  
  
You're in a band?!  
  
Yes. I like it all right, but the kind of music my band likes to play, I don't find particularly appealing. Punk rock is really not my style. But I do love to sing.  
  
Marron Glace... Gateau said, shaking his head even though he knew very well that Marron couldn't see him doing it, I never would have thought that you of all people would be a singer.  
  
I never really thought I would either. But I tried it once, and something about it just clicked with me, I suppose. I'm the lead vocalist in my band, but when I'm not performing with them, I like to sing softer tunes. Oh, but that reminds me, Gateau, I need a favor.  
  
A favor?  
  
Yes...can you give me a ride? I have a concert over at the old theater by the Catering Place tonight and all the other band members are too busy to pick me up, and my bike has a flat.  
  
Don't you have a car?  
  
No. I don't like them. They're dangerous, expensive and bad for the environment.  
  
Oh okay, Marron. Sure, I'll give you a ride. Where do you live?  
  
There was the sound of light laughter on the other end of the line that made Gateau wonder for a moment until Marron said, In room 37, four floors down from you.  
  
Gateau nearly fell off the counter, What?! You live in my apartment building?!  
  
I just moved in four days ago. the calm, somewhat amused voice replied, I was looking in the apartment directory yesterday to see if there was anyone I knew in this building and there was your name.  
  
Whoa, dude! I don't believe it! Gateau said, trying to maintain his balance,Oh and speaking of people we know, how's your brother and the rest of the gang doing?  
  
The line was quite for a moment, before Marron replied ...My brother and Tira are fine. They're expecting their second child.   
  
If he hadn't been so surprised, Gateau might have been able to detect the slight quaver in Marron's voice. But he didn't....  
  
Gateau said, sitting straight up, Tira and Carrot are married?!  
  
Until death do they part,  
  
Jesus, I'm behind the times, Gateau muttered, feeling happy that the Misu sisters would no longer have to be stubborn little nags with Carrot, but also slightly hurt that he hadn't been invited to the wedding, much less made aware of it, but he brushed that aside, And they're happy together?  
  
Yes, very. They are getting along very well. And my brother is a surprisingly good father and an even more surprisingly faithful husband. He works hard for the family, which is a real switch for him. He's working at the local repair shop. Under cars all day long...And Tira's the librarian for her son's school.  
  
How did Chocolate take to Carrot choosing Tira over her? Gateau asked, feeling concerned for the sometimes annoying, but beautiful and spirited elder Misu.  
  
Marron sighed, I'm afraid she suffered a lot more than any of us could have imagined. When Carrot and Tira told Chocolate that they were getting married, she sank into depression over the fact that her only love, Carrot, had chosen her little sister over her. She refused to go into rehabilitation, and ended up an alcoholic. She's now selling herself on the streets to support her addiction. The last time I saw her, she looked half starved, and was covered with bruises. It was heartbreaking.  
  
My gods. That's awful. Gateau breathed.  
  
Marron said, Tira's last letter to me said that she has almost convinced Chocolate to undergo therapy. Tira and Carrot are saving up to put her into a home, in hopes that she will recover.  
  
That's good to hear, there was a pause, then Gateau did his best to stifle a laugh as he voiced the question at the back of his mind,And what of Mille Feuille?  
  
Oh, him, Marron sighed, no need to worry about _him_. He's living in Paris now and is doing more than well, Gateau heard Marron muffling his laughter as he managed to get out He's now working as a super model.  
  
Gateau laughed out loud, Oh really? Well, who'da thunk?  
  
Marron said through his own laughter.  
  
Geez, Marron how are you so up to date with all of this?  
  
Well, Carrot is my... brother... Marron trailed off again. This time Gateau noticed, and was a little concerned.  
  
  
  
...Oh, I'm sorry... Marron said softly before continuing, ...and he IS married to Tira, and Chocolate is Tira's sister, so it all kind of connects. Then one day, before her life had taken a turn for the worst, of course, I wrote a letter to Chocolate, that ended with please give my regards to Milphey. A week later, there was a letter from Chocolate in my mailbox that said she sent Milphey my address and the next day, a postcard, picturing the crossdresser himself wearing the latest piece from Gucchi arrived.  
  
I guess I just didn't keep in touch coz I'm not family to any of you.  
  
Oh Gateau, I'm sorry. Marron said, and Gateau could tell he meant it, But that will change now that we're in the same building.  
  
There was an awkward silence on the phones as both parties took a moment to consider the implications of this simple phrase. Changing the subject, Gateau said hastily, Um, Marron, don't you need to go?  
  
Not yet. I still have a half an hour until I need to be at the theater. I called early so we could talk for a while.  
  
Gateau said quietly, that's sweet of you,  
  
So how have you been lately?  
  
Um, to be quite honest, not too good. I'm getting the shitty minimum wage at the local McDonalds.  
  
McDonalds? Gateau, why are you working there?  
  
I can't get a decent job because I couldn't get into college.  
  
Oh...I'm really sorry, Gateau.  
  
It's okay. Could be worse, I guess. But the apartment's a mess and I haven't been eating much coz I just blew six-months' worth of wages. But I guess I can live without eating everyday...  
  
Gateau, that's just not right.  
  
Bah, it's fine. I just nick fries and burgers every other day at the job, and I'm cool.  
  
It's not healthy, Gateau. That's asking for a heart attack, you know.  
  
Gateau shrugged, Yeah, but you do what you gotta do.  
  
  
  
Silence. After a very heavy pause, Marron spoke again, Look, Gateau, we'd better go. I need to be there in fifteen minutes.  
  
Meet you down in the parking lot?  
  
Alright. Oh and Gateau?  
  
  
  
After the concert, you're coming over to MY apartment for dinner. That's a demand, not a request.   
  
*CLICK*  
  
Dumbfounded, Gateau slowly hung up the receiver. He couldn't help but stare stupidly at the phone as if it would suddenly start talking to him and tell him the answers to all of his questions, before he finally kicked himself back to reality. Gateau then put on his jacket and from beneath his mattress, he grabbed the key to what he'd all that hard-earned cash on...  
  
~!~!~!~!~!~  
  
When the two met in the parking lot, both jaws hit the pavement upon seeing the other.....  
  
He was clad in a pair of big, clunky black boots, ragged black jeans, a red tank with a white logo stamped on the front, overtop of which was a black leather jacket, laced with a myriad of chains, studs, and random zippers. His hair was a bit longer than it had been the last time Marron had seen him, and this time is what not slicked back with about a gallon of hair gel, but hung loose, and shaggy, framing his face, which had not been shaved for days, but was adorned with those bright blue eyes that were as bold and adventurous as ever. His gloved hands gripped the handles of a magnificent black Harley, whose purring motor kept an oncoming awkward silence at bay. But Gateau was just as surprised to see Marron, if not more so. Though he still had that quiet, demure look about him, he was no longer the noble and regal-looking young man he had been all those years ago. He had always been very modest when it came to clothing. The garments of choice back then were long pants, button-down shirts, and comfortable shoes, all of them white. Marron was one of those few people who could wear all white and look good in it. Then again, Marron had always been a rare specimen. Either way, it was a shock to Gateau seeing him now, because his previous attire had been exchanged for black and silver sneakers, a black velvet kilt, and a tight red tank that did a good job of showing off his slender waist. Had Marron taken up cross-dressing? He was even wearing some make-up: heavy black eyeliner and bright red eye shadow that set off his golden-yellow eyes. But what surprised Gateau most was Marron's hair. The last time they had been together as a team, Marron's hair was past his hips. Now it had been cut and hung in messy layers, anywhere from five to eight inches long, all save for the two tresses he always let hang in front. These hung just above his waist and the whole job was dyed dark blue (nearly the same color as the jet black is was naturally). Yup, he was definitely a rock star...  
  
Hello, Gateau. Marron said in that same, soft, dusky voice that rung clear as a bell in Gateau's mind... One of Marron's few features that had not changed since he was last seen by the muscular blonde, who responded with a very quiet, Hi, Marron...it's been a while...  
  
Marron said, nodding, It's good to see you again. I missed you.  
  
Gateau's thick eyebrows raised,   
  
Yes, of course, Gateau, you were as important to me as any of the others. We were a team. And a fine one at that, Marron then gave Gateau a funny look,Did you think I would forget you?  
  
Gateau didn't answer. All he could do at this point was flip through his memories, like pages in a dusty album... He kept seeing that beautiful, white-clad young man, so elegant, like a god, almost. Soft of speech, replete of grace, and every move he made seemed to leave music in its wake. Gateau had flirted with him occasionally, only to be softly spurned each time, by the beautiful boy of his dreams...that fem face, so pale, angular and beautiful, with thin, sculpted lips, expressive golden eyes that seemed to burn and look like calm amber oceans at the same time, and long, feathery eyelashes, naturally dark and thick enough to make a hooker cry...that slender frame, which curved and arched in a nimble, graceful and almost rhythmic manner, as he if he were performing some feline dance or casting a spell...and his hands...the long, tapered fingers...fairer than those of any princess in a fairy tale, and skilled, in their lightning-fast choreography...such beauty that couldn't and wouldn't be his to say I love you... to. The memories were bittersweet to Gateau, who at the same time, was being reminisced over by Marron...  
  
Marron looked at Gateau, astride his black-chrome steed, while thinking about the Gateau he'd known those years ago, as if he were comparing photographs in a yearbook. Four years ago, this man was a top-heavy mountain of muscle, the definition chiseled and clean over his smooth, bronzed skin. He was clearly still extraordinary in that way, only now, the look seemed to have slightly... Rumpled black denim now loosely clothed legs which had once sported tight blue jeans. The black leather jacket helped to tone down the true extent of Gateau's spellbinding physique, but enhanced that tough biker look that he'd apparently taken on. But though he'd gone from soldier to street-rider, he was still Gateau Mocha, now and forever. His strong jaw, which had always been cleanly shaven, was now whiskered with stiff, blond bristles. His hair, which had always been carefully slicked back, now hung in tawny tresses almost to his chin, but those stubborn little bits in the front that insisted on sticking out were still there. If nothing else, Gateau's beautiful cerulean eyes had remained the same. They were like azure ice-caps, cold and proud, but at the same time, a gentle baby-blue color, and soothing to look into. Actually, Marron thought, this new Gateau had an overall more look to him. No longer was he a powerful warrior that could fell a stone wall will his fist. Or at least he didn't look it. Marron could no longer see the stubborn, slightly obtuse nineteen year-old who'd tried unendingly to win his affections. It had been a bit annoying at the time, yes, but deep down inside, Marron thought he might've liked the attention Gateau offered him. But then again, like everyone else, Gateau only saw Marron for the way he looked, and this was what kept Marron from accepting what Gateau might have given him all those years ago...  
  
  
  
Gateau said, with a little jerk as his wandering mind quickly found its way back to reality, Yeah, sorry...um...here... he unbuckled his helmet and held it out to Marron, who hesitated, Gateau, don't you need to wear that?  
  
Well, I should, but I don't have another one and you need it more than I do, Gateau shrugged and added, besides, you're the passenger and therefore my responsibility. If anything happened to you, not only would I be in big trouble, but I'd never be able to forgive myself.  
  
You're sure? Marron said, as he slowly accepted the helmet. Only when Gateau gave him a final nod, did Marron place the helmet on his head and buckle the strap.   
  
Um...how do I get on?  
  
Oh, sorry... Gateau said, dismounting the bike. He lifted Marron up and sat him down on the back of the seat, then he got back on and revved that baby up.   
  
Hold on tight to me, Gateau called over his shoulder, Don't let go for even a second,  
  
Gateau got a strangely pleasing feeling when he felt Marron's arms circle his middle. Hmmm...I wouldn't mind doing this again... he thought to himself as he kicked the Harley into gear and rode out of the garage.  
  
~  
  
Due back the 22nd, The spectacled lady with about an ocean of wavy rose-colored hair said as she put a stamp on the inside of the cover of Olde English Fables for the Young and Adventurous and handed the heavy book to the short red-head who stood on the other side of the counter.  
  
Thank you, Mrs. Glace, He said giving a polite little bow before scuttling out of sight. The intent gaze of the librarian poured over the mountain of papers and books stacked upon the antique wooden desk and she sighed slightly. She was not looking forward to having to go through all of that and make sure all of the books that had been checked out had been returned safe and sound...  
  
*Achem...*  
  
A voice that she knew, whose owner was clearing his throat to get her attention, made the woman look up from her papers, and a smile crossed her face when she saw him. Her husband was standing there in ragged jeans, and a shirt that had once been white, now stained every shade of brown you could think of, and then some. His wily black cowlicks were kept at bay, tucked beneath old baseball cap, and whatever hair could manage to peek out from under the hat did in sharp-looking spikes. Despite his appearance, the man had always looked either cute or handsome, and he still did, even tonight. How the young woman wanted to leap into his arms and tell him to take her home right then and there. Alas, no...  
  
Carrot, you know I have to work late tonight, she said with a little sigh.  
  
Aaaw, c'mon, Tira, Carrot protested, his trademark crooked grin never fading, It's Turnip's birthday!  
  
I know, dear,   
  
He won't cut the cake without mommy!  
  
I'm sorry honey, but I can't- Tira cut herself off when she noticed Carrot was down on his knees and had somehow crawled under her desk, to where she was sitting, and placed his head upon her rather round stomach.  
  
Tira... Sugar Booger... Carrot said sweetly, looking up at her with those big chestnut puppy-eyes that he knew she couldn't say to. Sure enough, the librarian caved.  
  
All right, all right, she either said or sighed as she smiled down at her husband, Let me pack up my things... Tira made a face as she attempted to rise from her seat. Carrot sprung to his feet quick as lightning and helped his wife up. He smiled as he looked at her bulging abdomen, She's coming soon.  
  
Tira agreed, nodding and returning the smile gently, Little Toffee-kun will be here any day now.  
  
You shouldn't have to work in this condition, Tira, Carrot said, his voice revealing concern.  
  
It's all right, honey, Tira reassured her husband, You and I both love children. I might as well remain in a setting where I can be amongst them whenever I can.  
  
Of course... Carrot said softly, embracing his wife and kissing her forehead. He then took her by the hand and led her out of the library, Come on, honey, let's get you and Toffee-kins home to her brother.  
  
~!~!~!~!~!~  
  
A knock at the door.  
  
  
  
Mr. Feuille, the voice of his assistant replied, You are due in fifteen minutes and Mr. Mizo wishes to have a preliminary talk with you.  
  
Oh for gods' sakes, Kuri, The young white-clad man said in exasperation, Will you please stop sounding like some stiff government official wearing sunglasses and a black suit as he talks into his earphone? Come in here,  
  
The door opened and a little girl, not a day over thirteen gingerly stepped into the brightly-lit room. The man swung around in his rollie-chair to face her and tossed his magenta locks over his shoulder, please, sit down, my dear and talk to me as a friend, not as an employee, he smiled kindly, a girl your age as sweet and adorable as you shouldn't be talking like that.  
  
The auburn-haired girl smiled slightly as she took a seat on the soft velvet sofa across from the gorgeous man, hardly able to believe that he was what he was. The stunning youth had a mane of purple-pink waves that flowed down his back, and bright blue-green eyes that looked like minuscule oceans. His lips were naturally full and dark, as were his eyelashes. His voice was deep, but more warm, and playful than masculine. His skin was flawless, and nicely tanned. He was very slender, and all-around shapely, and possessed feminine grace. Everyone who saw him thought him to be the gender he was not. Even now, his little assistant, who had been working for him for the past three weeks, still found it hard to believe that this man before her possessed such a visage. He met every female super model criteria; Tall, naturally skinny, and... to look upon. Surely a man could not embody such beauty. But this one did. Kuri also found it hard to believe that he had become the person he was. Mille was one of the few success stories of crazies who go into the loony bin afflicted, and come out cured'. Shortly after he'd entered junior high, Mille was a diagnosed schizophrenic, and was sent to a school for boys with special needs'. Milphey apparently thought he had another self; while he was a perfectly normal cross-dressing flirtaholic, he seemed to believe that he was also an elite warrior, fighting to save another world from certain destruction. He had no control over whose train of thought he would hold, and when he would hold it, but the warrior always seemed to arrive on the scene when he got angry. One minute, he was a cheerful, sunny-faced boy-chick, the next, he was a battle-bent take-no-prisoners bad-ass. He had frightened many of his teachers by leaping onto their desks, calling them infidels, and threatening to loose the wrath of the gods upon them. Although he'd never brought any serious harm upon anyone, besides scaring a few of the younger children, his actions were thought to be potentially dangerous to innocent bystanders. At the age of fourteen, he was restrained, and shipped off to a well-deserved stay at Club Crazy. He emerged four years later, a bit more sane, and ready to face the world. And just look at how far he'd come; a successful super model for one of the most profitable fashion companies in the world. Although he was still a bit of a nut, and occasionally had terrible mood swings, his achievement was, to say the least, quite remarkable. Kuri shook her head, Sir, I am expected to address you with respect and treat you as my boss.  
  
Which I am, but I am by no means tyrannical, the girl's beautiful employer nodded, But if you're going to talk to me like I'm some queen of Sheba, then I might as well have you get down on your hands and knees and lick my shoes to shine them. I won't have it. Fame doesn't command subservience, dear child. Understood?  
  
The little girl nodded slightly and handed her employer a file, Mr. Mizo says he wants you to make these changes for tonight's show. He wants you to lose the pink feather boa and use a black silk scarf instead.  
  
Aaaw...but I like the boa... Milphey said, making a face.  
  
Kuri continued ,He wants you to wear the red heels instead of the white. He also wants me to do your hair and help you with your make-up.  
  
Okie-dokie, Kuri-darling, then let's not waste anytime! The pink-haired model almost sang, rising jauntily from his seat, the edge of his white Angora robe dancing at his ankles. He bustled about the room, gathering up everything he would need for tonight's modeling session, Kuri, be a dear and get that horrid scarf that Mr. Mizo insists I wear, he called over his shoulder as he sadly replaced his beloved boa in its bin along with its brothers and sisters.  
  
Kuri found the scarf, a dark gauzy thing, and handed it to her employer who took it disdainfully and slung it about his shoulders. He then began shuffling about the room, growing more and more frustrated, WHERE THE HELL ARE MY FREAKING HEELS, GOD-FREAKING-DAMMIT?!  
  
Here, sir,  
  
Oh thank you, Kuri, Milphey said with a sigh as he accepted the shoes she handed him and began buckling the horrid things to his feet. When he looked up, little Kuri had retrieved his dress from the closet. It was white with silver ribbon for trim, and the sleeves widened into bells. It was tight at the top, shoulderless, very loose at the bottom, and had a short trail. There were lacy inserts at the waist, so one could see the sides of the wearer's stomach, and there was intricate silver embroidery over every inch of the garment. Miphey smiled. The dress was very beautiful and he'd been looking forward to wearing it himself. But he frowned when he remembered he had to trade that cute boa and the white heels for other things he favored less. The model shrugged and took the dress from Kuri. He slipped behind a gauzy curtain that hung in the corner of his room, and when he emerged he was wearing the beautiful dress, absolutely glowing with joy. He went over to the post at the other end of the room and held onto it as Kuri pulled two cords in the back, tightening the built-in corset.  
  
I don't know why they insist that you wear a corset, Kuri said frowning as she tugged, You're skinny enough as it is.  
  
I kn-unh!-know... Milphey said, emitting a little gasp as the bony structure tightened around his already narrow waist. That was the only thing he disliked about the dress...having to turn his twenty-eight inch waist to a twenty-three...Argh...he liked modeling but sometime it could be a real pain in the...abs?  
  
~!~!~!~!~!~  
  
Gateau couldn't help but stare wide-eyed and slack-jawed as Marron let his passions unfold on the stage. He couldn't see the guitarist standing slightly behind Marron, nor could he see the drummer and the piantist. The only one who showed up in his field of vision was Marron. While he wasn't nearly as wild and exuberant as most other singers Gateau had seen, all of those calm and collected' fronts seemed to fall away from the blue-haired artist. There was no dramatic hair-flipping, no impressive dance moves, no rolling on the floor and screaming, and no smashing of guitars. Just Marron, gripping the microphone, holding it close enough to allow his lips to brush the surface almost sensuosly as he sang his heart out. He'd already performed David Bowie's Underground', and Elton John's Somewhere, Out Of The Blue', and was currently singing And She Was' by the Talking Heads.   
  
...Rising up above the earth...  
Moving into the universe,   
and she's  
drifting this way and that...  
Not touching the ground at all,   
and she's  
up above the yard...   
  
Marron sang, in a voice that was neither too deep, nor too dulcet. It was perfect, and his expression was lax, yet passionate. Then, the beat quickened, and he got a little more excited as he sang the chorus part;  
  
The world was moving, she was   
right there with it  
And she was  
The world was moving, she was  
floatin' above it  
And she was...  
Glad about it!  
No doubt about it!  
No time to think about what she's done  
No time to think about   
what to tell them  
No time to think about  
what  
she's  
done   
And she was,  
  
Gateau couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief. He was seeing the unseen side of Marron. It was as if the younger man had kept his emotions and enthusiasm bottled up and brewing within him like a shaken soda bottle, waiting for just the right moment to be released.  
  
  
~!~!~!~!~!~  
  
  
Damn door... Gateau cursed under his breath as he struggled with the stubborn lock on his door.   
  
Now, Gateau, remember, we are eating at MY apartment.  
  
I know, I know... Gateau mumbled, an edge of frustration embedded in his voice. With a loud clicking noise, the confounded lock finally surrendered and Gateau was able to open his door. He stalked into his apartment, being careful not to step on the errant clothes and soda bottles and other junk that was strewn about the floor of the room. Marron poked his head in the doorway, and surveyed the vast array of crap that had colonized upon the floor of Gateau's apartment. The younger man grimaced, Gateau, your apartment is a mess.  
  
Hmph, how's that for brain power? Gateau grumbled, his voice laced with sarcasm as placed the key to his motorcycle under his mattress and then made his way back to Marron, weaving between heaps of stuff, here and there. He finally reached the doorway and quickly exited his happy little shit-pit, closing the door, a bit embarrassed that Marron had seen what a mess he was...  
  
The two walked down the hall until they found the elevator. Marron pressed a button and they both waited. When the reflective metal doors parted, both men stepped into the elevator, and the doors closed behind them. Marron pressed a button that had a printed upon it in chipped, fading white paint. The elevator was pretty old. The floor was carpeted with rough, red and brown argyle upholstery, emblazoned with a few telltale stains. And the walls had wood paneling. Very old wood paneling that was marred, graffiti-ed and in need of replacement. But despite all this, the craptacular old elevator had one nice attribute... There were speakers... poor quality ones, yes, but the music that played in the elevator was very mellow and soothing. That was one thing Gateau really liked about the elevator. Someone as big and powerful as himself was often in need of a loosen-up-er and enjoyed listening to a nice, relaxing tune. Sometimes, during his free moments, Gateau would take a few random, no-real-reason-or-destination rides in the elevator because it was oh so wonderfully relaxing. He would lean up against the wall, close his eyes, and let his mind drift. Ahhh, bliss...  
  
Gateau recognized the song that was playing. He liked it a heck of a lot, and gave into the temptation of pushing the emergency stop button.  
  
Gateau... What are you doing? Marron inquired, giving his friend a funny look.  
  
I like this music, Gateau said smiling slightly as he casually leaned back against the wall, his hands tucked into his pockets.  
  
Marron asked, a little interested, What is the name of this song?  
  
I dunno, Gateau said shrugging, I heard it playing in the background of one of my favorite soap operas.  
  
Marron smiled slightly, his brow quirked with amusement, Soap operas, Gateau?  
  
The blond man rolled his eyes and gave a sharp dismissive wave in Marron's general direction, Oh, kiss my ass. I happen to like cheap television dramas.  
  
Marron sighed, shaking his head as he smiled, Very well. To each his own. But I must agree with you. This is a nice song...   
  
The smaller man followed Gateau's example and leaned up against the wall. Marron slowly closed his eyes, submitting himself to the ambrosia of the music... It was sad and haunting, but beautiful in a way... The song spoke of nostalgia, of dreams yet to come true, of heartfelt hunger, of unrequited love...  
  
Gateau turned his head slightly to look over where Marron was leaning. He face was so peaceful. So content. His lips tapered slightly at the corners into the faintest ghost of a smile. Long, elegant fingers played with the hem of his shirt and thick, feathery lashes fluttered slightly, as though Marron was deep in a slumber rife of sweet dreams...  
  
The song ended, softly fading into the next piece of music on the cheap elevator speakers. Marron very slowly opened his eyes, and looked over to his side, where his friend was still staring at him. Gateau smiled a little.  
  
  
  
Marron returned the smile, but wasted no time in averting his gaze and turning his head, concealing most of his face with a sheaf of hair.   
  
The shy little Glace boy, Gateau thought to himself, identifying another of Marron's few unchanged attributes. If anything, he was still quiet and modest... One whose secrets guarded themselves. But Gateau thought he could see the slightest hint of a blush riding Marron's high cheekbones. Gateau actually managed to get a blush out of that sophisticated, more-virginal-than-thou-fixated stoic. Bwah! He felt so proud...  
  
But the silence was starting to make both parties feel awkward, so Gateau pressed a button and the elevator resumed its descent. With a sharp jerk and a loud pinging noise, the elevator reached its destination, and the two passengers promptly made their exit.   
  
Marron unlocked his door with relative ease and showed Gateau in, closing the door behind them both. Gateau gasped. Marron's apartment was by no means fancy or extravagant, but it was CLEAN. Every little thing had its place, and not a single item was askew. Oh gods, what if Marron was one of those Feng Shui fanatics who went batshit if the slightest thing in his impossibly tidy little dwelling was budged out of place? Gateau certainly hoped not. The thought of a person with such messy tendencies (such as himself) entering into such an orderly place made Gateau uneasy, and he suddenly wished to be back in the comfortingly cruddy hellhole he called home. How could someone such as himself profane such an ungodly tidy dwelling with his presence? Everything was so...perfect. Except for one thing... Gateau noticed that the doorframe had suffered from what appeared to be a break-in, for the wood was splintered and split near the lock. Oh well, nothing in the real world was perfect. And despite this one flaw, Marron's sickeningly orderly apartment was downright frightening. It was as if the cleanliness factor triggered one of the voices in Gateau's brain into shouting in a weird British accent Run away! Run away!  
  
But Gateau did not run away. Instead, he stepped into the apartment, mindful to wipe his boots off on the mat and remove them, carefully placing his hefty leather footwear just inside the doorway. Marron did the same with his sneakers.  
  
Marron then made his way into the kitchen with Gateau trailing behind him, Is spinach lasagna okay?  
  
Gateau said nodding. He watched as Marron paraded around the kitchen, getting out the cheese grater, a cutting board, and other things he'd need. A delicious smell was wafting through the kitchen even as he did. So, Marron had gotten started before going to the concert, and everything he needed was on hand. A top-notch housekeeper AND one who thought ahead. Yep, that guy had all his little rubber duckies lined up in neat army-drill rows.   
  
After a few minutes, everything was ready and all that remained was to wait.  
  
Well, now that that's started, I really think I should take a shower. That performance was rough, and I'm all sweaty... Marron said, grimacing as he fingered a bit of his oily hair, Do you think you can watch television for about ten minutes while I freshen up?  
  
Gateau said, shrugging casually. He flopped down on the couch and plucked up the zapper as Marron headed off in the direction of the bathroom.  
  
_Gods, he has a nice apartment... He even has an attached bathroom... Lucky bastard... _Gateau thought to himself as he thought about his own dirt-cheap crap-tacular dwelling. It was so utterly shitty that he had to use the public restroom on the bottom floor, which looked like something out of a prison movie and smelled like ass. Eugh. Nasty.  
  
Gateau channel surfed for a while, in search of a soap or a nice little cartoon, and found none. Well, even if Marron had a clean apartment, HE didn't have cable, so HA! Gateau turned off the telly and flopped back, not caring about the rather unattractive slouch he'd fallen into. He could hear the quick, dainty rhythm of the water droplets as they bulleted the tiles. Gateau could even hear Marron humming faintly, his rich, tenor voice mingling with the staccato of the shower. It was very unnerving, and even somewhat... alluring?  
  
Without fully realizing what he was doing, Gateau rose from the couch and meandered off in the direction from which the voice filtered. His footsteps were light against the carpet. He couldn't hear them. All he could hear was Marron...  
  
The bathroom door was open a little. Gateau very carefully eased the door open a bit further, and allowed his gaze to wander inside. It was probably very wrong, he knew, but it was also very wrong of Marron to leave the bathroom door opened while he was showering with a guest in the house, so there!  
  
The mirror was fogged already, and the steam that filled the bathroom moistened Gateau's face slightly. The outfit Marron had worn was lying in a disheveled heap on the floor, a little ways away from the sink. The smell of lilacs mingled with the already balmy atmosphere of the bathroom. Behind a panel of frosted glass, stood a very wet and warm Marron. Gateau felt a shiver shimmy down his spine as his hungry gaze took in that shapely silhouette, and watched as those artistic hands languidly ran themselves over the graceful curves of that beautiful body...   
  
But surprisingly, Marron was not what truly captured Gateau's attention... As the Peeping Tom surveyed the room, his gaze fell upon what was sitting on the sink. It was a plastic cylinder, a receptacle that was sure to contain prescription medication. It held what appeared to be tiny capsules, though these were mostly obscured by the label, which Gateau was just barely able to read from his vantage point. The white and blue sticker read, Zoloft: anti-depressant'.  
  
Gateau very carefully closed the bathroom door and backed away, slowly returning to the couch, where he flopped down and turned on the telly. But his mind was not following whatever (boring) saga was unfolding upon the screen... He was thinking about that little cylinder full of pills... Pills that were supposed to tackle depression. Marron had always had that calm, collected, and impossibly stoic exterior... Had he been full of angst and despair all along? Marron was depressed... these three words kept echoing in Gateau's mind, leaving him with a somewhat sinking feeling... It wasn't pity, and it wasn't guilt... He couldn't define it, but he knew that this new knowledge would change his perspective Marron-wise. It would change his perspective A LOT.  
  
While Gateau was mulling over his discovery, he heard the water being turned off, then the hum of the blow-dryer, and a few minutes later, the bathroom door opened. Oh gods...  
  
Marron came striding out, wearing a heavy white terricloth robe over loose cotton pants and a white undershirt. Here he looked at least somewhat reminiscent of his old self. Except for that hair...  
  
Marron went into the kitchen and called out to Gateau, Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, so wash your hands.  
  
Gateau answered, struggling to keep his voice from revealing how uneasy he was. He numbly picked himself up off the couch and started toward the bathroom.  
  
Oh, hold on, Gateau, Marron said from the entrance to the kitchen, I'd rather if you used the sink in here... If you don't mind.  
  
Gateau nodded slightly, I understand.  
  
Marron stared at his friend for a second, then went back to cutting the steaming lasagna as Gateau walked over to the sink. As soon as Gateau had washed up, he took a seat at the table, where a plate bearing a slice of delicious-smelling lasagna was placed in front of him. Marron set his own dinner down and went over to the refrigerator, What would you like to drink Gateau? he asked over his shoulder.  
  
Anything with caffeine. Gateau answered. Marron's brow quirked, and he shrugged.  
  
Iced tea?  
  
That's fine. Gateau said, putting his napkin in his lap. Marron finally returned to the table with a glass of Nestea for Gateau and a glass of milk for himself. He sat himself down in the chair across from Gateau, and put his own napkin in his lap. Both parties started to dig into their dinner in silence. Well, not exactly silence...  
  
Gateau was starved. Like he'd told Marron on the phone, he hadn't been eating every day, and he certainly hadn't been eating good wholesome food. That day, he hadn't had breakfast or lunch, and after eating nothing but greasy, salty fast food for as long as he could remember, this piece of perfectly ordinary homemade lasagna looked like a banquet. Gateau couldn't help but scarf it up, relishing in the feeling of actually eating a decent meal. The way he figured, at least everyone knew he was enjoying his food.  
  
Meanwhile, Marron was eating his own lasagna in a perfectly civil manner. Hell, the guy was like a machine. A very sophisticated and annoyingly scrupulous machine, taking small bites and chewing thoroughly before swallowing, and scooping up the next forkful. Gateau had annihilated his dinner before Marron had finished close to half of his first helping.   
  
Would you like some more?  
  
Yes please, Gateau said eagerly as he handed his plate to Marron, who fetched him another piece of the wonderfully yummy lasagna. Gateau didn't hesitate for a second, and dug into his second slice, gobbling it up with gusto while Marron the Robot resumed the painfully slow and neat consumption of his first slice. Detestable perfectionist. Nyah.  
  
Gateau noticed the tiny blue capsule that Marron had set on the edge of his plate. While Gateau paused to take a swig of his iced tea, he watched, out of the corner of his eye, as Marron quickly popped the Zoloft in his mouth and washed it down with his own beverage.   
  
After they'd finished dinner (Marron ate the one slice of lasagna. Gateau wolfed down a total of five), Gateau folded his arms behind his head, leaning back in his chair, Great feast, Marron, a full stomach sure feels good.  
  
My pleasure, Marron answered, clearing the table and depositing the dishes into the sink.  
Do you have time?  
  
For what? Gateau asked, composing himself.  
  
Well, I thought we could talk for a while, Marron said shrugging, as he replaced himself in his chair, I mean, we haven't seen each other in four years. There's a lot to catch up on, don't you think so?  
  
Um, I guess I see what you're saying. I'd like to, but I kinda have to... um, go. Gateau said, fumbling with his own words.  
  
Oh. Alright, Gateau. Marron said, never one to question someone's personal obligations, a trait that Gateau genuinely appreciated. Marron walked Gateau to the doorway and the older man tugged on his boots. When Gateau stood, he looked at Marron, about to say something, and Marron looked at him. They both regarded each other for a moment in silence. Feeling just a tad embarrassed, Gateau spoke up, Um thanks for the dinner, Marron, it was really great, he said, hating how his voice seemed to have shrunk.  
  
You're welcome. Marron said in a voice that was just as reduced as Gateau's. He looked at Gateau for a few seconds with what could've almost been fondness in his eyes. But Gateau knew better... Needless to say, he was very surprised when Marron lightly rested a pale, elegant hand on his broad shoulder and said, all sincerity, It was nice seeing you again, my friend.  
  
Okay. That was was it. All of Gateau's barbed-wired-topped barriers of self control were felled by that simple phrase. The hefty blond threw his arms around Marron, nearly lifting the shocked man off the floor in a killer bear hug.  
  
G-Gateau... I... can't breathe...  
  
Gateau snapped back into reality and gently released Marron, averting his eyes. How embarrassing. The object of his affections had actually said something nice to him, and he'd nearly ended up squishing the poor guy like a grape. Hello Gateau Mocha, you are one stoopid, impulsive motherfucker.  
  
I'm sorry, Marron, Gateau said quietly, I just... missed you.  
  
Marron, having thankfully recovered from his minor respiratory loss, smiled a little at this, I missed you too.  
  
It Gateau's turn to flush, R- Really???  
  
Marron nodded once, Yes. I told you that before, silly.  
  
Silence. Gateau could feel his heart fluttering like a caged bird as he looked at Marron and Marron looked at him. Looking back, he felt pretty stupid. He'd just stood there, feasting his eyes upon the visually delicious younger man before him, staring like a fuzzy moron.   
  
When his conscience finally caught up with him, Gateau placed a hand gently on Marron's shoulder and smiled at him, Good night, Marron. And thank you.  
  
Marron simply smiled, shaking his head slowly, Please, don't thank me, Gateau. It was my pleasure, he then looked up at Gateau, his expression achingly sweet, Good night.  
  
Gateau suddenly felt that urge again... He wanted to kug Marron on the spot, and smother him in smooches, and he kept hearing a really odd Jamaican voice singing out, You wanna kiss de girl!  
  
But this time Gateau was able to restrain himself. Besides, no matter how much he looked it, Marron was NOT a girl, after all. Gateau simply gave him a grateful smile before turning and leaving for his own apartment.  
  
When Gateau was safe, back inside his Home-Shitty-Home, he leaned up against his door and released a breath he did not remember holding. His heart was still pounding, pumping a questionable warmth throughout his body. Gateau slunk into the kitchen, feeling numb with muted joy, until his hand automatically came to a rest upon the cabinet door. Gateau then remembered why his instincts had led him into the kitchen... time to surrender to his own dirty little secret...  
  
Gateau didn't really have something to do that would've kept him from staying and chatting with his friend. Just finding out Marron was depressed had left an impact of fear on him... Gateau was not the sharpest cookie in the box and he knew it. He knew he would probably get so uneasy he would say something stoopid and end up totally screwing up his delicate, reborn friendship with the beautiful man of his dreams... He couldn't get stuck in a room with Marron, rife of awkward silences, resulting in a series of off-color jokes, out-of-place serious remarks in response to those jokes and then someone would get really upset, which meant basically that things would be no fun at all. Hell...   
  
Gateau reached into the medicine cabinet and retrieved his own prescription medication. After placing the little plastic cylinder on the counter, he went to the fridge, from which he got a bottle of coke. Having a seat on the counter top, Gateau struggled for a while with the childproof cap (damn big clumsy fingers of his) and nearly ended up just ripping the thing open, before he thankfully managed to uncap it in a civilized manner. He emptied one dosage into the palm of his hand then closed up the container, grimacing at the thought of having to open it again.   
  
His thoughts wandered to his salary... Would he ever get a raise? He remembered talking with his boss (a plump lady, practically half as tall as he was, with tacky, pointy pink spectacles, hair that looked like steel wool, and an overall bad-ass butch-bitch look) about needing a raise that she refused to give him... Hey, did she really expect him to be able to live on a mere five-fifty an hour salary forever? Ugly freaker. Gateau slumped his shoulders, heaving a huge sigh. He'd seen Marron for the first time in years, and he'd learned a lot from him... Why had the rest of the team said Oh screw Gateau and omitted him from their lives? It was true, Carrot had never been very fond of him, but it still gave him no leeway with the cruel silent treatment. And what about Tira? Sure, he'd scared her a few times with his impulsive flirting, but still... And Chocolate was constantly pissed at him for picking on Carrot. And what about Milphey? That horny ass-flamer had once even admitted he held a candle for Gateau... Okay, so it was an itty bitty candle with most of the wax melted and the wick burnt away... and Milphey was kind of a loony... And then, Marron had always given him the cold shoulder, so he could hardly hold that against him now... Oh fine, so he didn't really have any good friends! Still, it was kind of depressing that not one of those lovely bastards/bitches had bothered to, in even the slightest way, include him in their lives. Sad. Gateau shook his head, swallowing the sorrow he felt welling up within him. Oh well. At least Marron had bothered. It took him long enough, but he actually bothered. This made a big difference, and it would do for now, Gateau decided, once again letting his gaze fall upon the little blue pill resting in his hand. Gateau smiled a rueful half-smile and raised his Coke in a toast of sorts, To friendship, he mused aloud, before taking his Zoloft and turning in for the night.  
  
  
_Brrrrrrriiiiing!  
  
click_  
  
  
  
Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you...!  
  
Marron rolled his eyes, smiling,   
  
Happy birthday, Marron Glaaa-aaaace, Happy birthday tooooo you! Gateau chorused cheerfully as he sat on the counter top, bouncing slightly and swinging his legs, looking for all the world like some overgrown little kid on steroids.   
  
Marron sighed, still smiling, Gateau, you remembered.  
  
Of course I remembered, dummy, Gateau said laughing, after taking a sip of Coke (his second bottle that day. He was QUITE happy), How could I forget?  
  
You forgot when Valentine's day was.  
  
I did NOT! I just couldn't wait and I wanted to bring you your roses a day early! Gateau lied, glad Marron could not see his frustrated blush.  
  
Marron laughed slightly, Whatever you say, Gateau.  
  
Anyway, come off it, man, I remembered your birthday didn't I? I called cuz I want you to come over this evening, I have a surprise for you.  
  
Well, I have a concert this afternoon, so I'll have to come home and shower, but I should be able to make it.  
  
Sure. See you at five, mmmkay?  
  
  
  
Later, birthday boy.  
  
Marron smiled to himself as he said goodbye and hung up the phone.  
  
  
At five o'clock, Marron stood in front of Gateau's door, feeling slightly uneasy. Being punctual could really suck sometimes. Especially when it meant not having time to properly and thoroughly dry your hair. And he hadn't had time to put any make-up on. Blah...  
  
_Knock. Knock._  
  
Marron heard a few telltale thumps on the other side of the door and a muffled Agh! Dammit! I'LL BE RIGHT THERE!!!. An amused smile played over his delicate features as he waited. The banging and clicking of various locks being undone could be heard before the door opened oh so slightly and a familiar blue eye peeked through the crack.  
  
You ready? Gateau questioned, from behind the door.  
  
Marron shrugged, I suppose.  
  
Alright. Come on in.  
  
Gateau opened the door to his apartment, gesturing for Marron to step inside. He did, and emitted a little gasp at what he saw. The piles of clothes had vanished from the floor. The empty soda bottles had migrated over to the recycling bin. The magazines and newspapers where stacked neatly on the coffee table, and the off white carpeting was pretty much pristine. Gateau's! Apartment! Was! Clean!  
  
Oh my gods, Gateau... Marron said, smiling,   
  
Gateau shrugged, beaming with pride, Took me at least a week, but I managed. He then gave into temptation and ruffled Marron's hair. Due to the way it had been cut and layered, Marron had a delightfully fluffy crop of hair. Right after he got out of the shower, Marron's blueish-black hair was especially fluffy and soft-looking. It was the kind of hair that you couldn't resist ruffling. Gateau had made a habit of doing this, much to Marron's annoyance. But today, Marron didn't really mind for some reason and smiled good-naturedly as he smoothed his hair back down as best he could  
  
Not bad, huh?  
  
Marron shook his head in disbelief. He surveyed the room, taking in every detail, memorizing it as though this was a once-in-a-lifetime sight (which it probably was). He noticed Gateau had taken the time to put up some decent curtains (those defective second-hand Venetian blinds HAD to go) and there was even a little vase with daisies in it sitting upon a cork coaster on the coffee table. But what really captured Marron's interest were the paintings. Gateau had several pieces in cheap, garage-sale frames hanging on his walls. They were blotchy, consisted of one or two colors, and didn't seem to form any kind of distinct pictures.  
  
What sort of paintings are these, Gateau? Marron said, approaching one of the masterpieces' that was a large grey and white squigglish blob with red splotches here and there, Where did you get them?  
  
I did them.  
  
Marron, slowly turned, staring at Gateau, with obvious skepticism in his eyes,   
  
Gateau said shrugging, I got started doing them by accident. One night I was really mad and happened to knock over my Coke. It spilled on the newspaper I was reading and I kinda forgot to clean it up. When it dried, it looked kind of cool. So anyway, I went to a yard sale, got a cheap set of kiddie watercolors, and some paper and had some fun with them. When I get really happy, sad, or pissed, I take it out on the paper in front of me.  
  
That's interesting. Marron said, a little amused, So they are sort of a window to your suppressed feelings?  
  
I guess, Gateau said, with a half-smile, I mean, I don't really try to paint anything in particular. This one I did when I was kind of ticked about my salary and it just so happened to come out looking like a flying bloody sock.  
  
Marron simply smiled, shaking his head. Gateau clapped him lightly on the shoulder, Hey come on, Marron, it's better than chewing out innocent bystanders and putting my fist through the wall, isn't it?  
  
I have to agree with you there.  
  
Gateau nodded, satisfied, Then I have something else for you.  
  
  
  
Uh-huh. Close your eyes.  
  
Marron cocked an eyebrow at Gateau, who simply raised his own eyebrows and said, Come on, just do it.  
  
Marron nodded once, and did as he was told. Gateau waved his hand over Marron's eyes to make sure they were indeed all the way closed. He then took Marron's hand and said, Come with me.   
  
Gateau led Marron over to the couch, where he had his friend sit down. Gateau then rushed over to the kitchen where he brought out a tray and set it down on the coffee table and turned off all the lights.   
  
Don't you peek, Gateau said in an almost-threatening tone.  
  
I'm not, Marron said truthfully. He could hear the clicking of various switches and buttons and even a rough scratching/hissing noise that was no doubt, that of a match being struck and lit.   
  
Alright. Now.  
  
Marron slowly opened his eyes. The lights were off, the telly was on, and in the faint light emitted from the screen, Marron could see a delicate array of nummies spread out on the coffee table before him; Peach, melon, and kiwi slices, Lady Finger pastries, a small cup of sweet shrimp, butterfly crackers, and to the right of it all, a dainty little cake lightly covered with white icing, decorated with yellow rose petals, and topped with a lit candle in the shape of a .  
  
Happy Birthday, Marron. Gateau said, shrugging and smiling.  
  
Marron released a short breath of joy at the sight, This is wonderful, Gateau. Thank you.  
  
Ah, it's nothing, Gateau said with a dismissive wave, taking a seat on the couch, next to Marron, Just a little sumthin I picked up at the Catering Place nearby the Mickey-D's. I would've made you a cake myself, but seeing as I can't cook worth jack... Hell, I can't even pour milk on cereal without lighting the place on fire.  
  
Marron laughed quietly to himself, Either way, this is just lovely, and I thank you for thinking of me.  
  
Don't mention it, Gateau said casually, Go ahead, get started. I got us a movie, too.  
  
Oh? And what would that be? Marron said, spearing up a peach slice with a frilly-topped toothpick.  
  
It's called Benny and Joon, Gateau said, taking the tape out of the clear, plastic rental case, I dunno what it's about, but I kinda like Dramedies. And it's not one of those things like American Pie or Hollow Man where it's all about sex and violence and dirty jokes.  
  
Well, good. Marron said, smiling slightly. Gateau popped the video into the VCR, and after nearly beating the crap out of the dirt-cheap telly, managed to get a decent picture. He then returned to the couch and settled down next to Marron, fastforewarding through all the cheesy chick-flick previews with the friendly help of the remote.   
  
The movie started and true to Gateau's word, it was relatively mellow. As Marron watched the girl, Joon, painting something expressive, using her hands and fingers rather than a paintbrush, pouring her emotions and feelings out onto a canvas, he was reminded a bit of Gateau, with his nonsensical but inner-meaningful pieces. When they came to a somewhat sad and touching part where the character, Sam, who was for the most part illiterate, was struggling to write a letter to his mother and Joon came up and offered help, Gateau was reminded of Marron. Marron had always been a real brain, and had helped Gateau through the short portion of his life he'd spent at school. Sure, Gateau could write (though his spelling was somewhat atrocious, and his neatness was somewhat... not neat), and do a little math, but his lack of a college education had left him without the skills he needed to find a decent job. Oh well...  
  
Both of them laughed when the park scene came around, and Sam, would could've been named Buster Keaton reborn, acquired an audience with his tricks and a little mini performance. Both were quiet when Sam and Joon were sharing a . Gateau snuck a glance over at Marron and he swore he saw Marron blushing when the two characters were sharing a brief, but rather heated moment in bed. Heh, ever the naive virgin-boy. Cute.  
  
Later in the film, a very distraught Joon started having a fit in the bus, and despite Sam's valiant efforts to gently calm her down, she simply couldn't come out of of her somewhat violent bout of depression. At this point, Gateau was for some reason compelled to look over at Marron, as if making sure he was okay. Gateau didn't know why... Maybe it was his knowledge of Marron's that made him do it... But in the six months since he and Marron had been... , Gateau had never even seen any evidence that supported the fact that Marron was deeply depressed. He was always perfectly fine when Gateau saw him or spoke with him. Oh well... Maybe the Zoloft was really doing its job well. Heck knew Gateau had enough issues to stress about, and Zoloft worked like a charm for him.   
  
When the film was over, and all of the munchies had been consumed, Gateau clicked off the telly, and turned on the lights.  
  
Good movie. He said, returning to the couch and replacing himself next to Marron.  
  
Yes, quite, Marron agreed. Gateau smiled at him, just looking at his friend adoringly, not daring to blink. The sweetness of the movie had put Gateau into... a ...  
  
Marron cocked his head in the cute, quizzical way a confused puppy does, What is it?  
  
Gateau said, shaking his head, But there's one more thing I have for you.  
  
Marron raised his eyebrows, Something more?  
  
Yep, I saved the best for last, Gateau replied, producing a medium-sized, squarish, some-what flat package wrapped in newspaper from under the couch. A book, no doubt. Gateau knew Marron all too well...  
  
Marron opened the present in the annoyingly slow way that perfectionist little kids do, carefully peeling off the tape, smoothing out the creases, and above all, NEVER ripping the paper. Ah, woe be to thee if thou art rippeth thine giftwrap. Woe, woe!  
  
Marron finally got his gift suitably unwrapped, only to discover that it was NOT a book, but a framed photograph.   
  
I found it while sorting through my junk from the old days' Gateau said, making finger quote marks as he said the last two words, I thought you might like to have it.  
  
The photograph showed six young, teenage persons standing together in a group. It was the old gang, all together. There was Milphey, looking for all the world like a cute little schoolgirl, with his toes turned in, his hands clasped in front, and that big, winning smile smacked on his fem face. Next to him was Tira, who was smiling, and looking as sweet and adorable as ever, behind her huge round sunglasses. Chocolate was next to Tira. She had one arm around her petite, pink-haired sister, and was making a V is for Victory! sign with her free hand. Gateau was at the other end of the line, looking very smug, of course. In the middle stood Marron, struggling to keep his unruffled composure as he received a very long, hard noogie from his laughing older brother.   
  
Carrot...  
  
There was a heavy silence, during which Marron stared intently at the picture. Gateau was beginning to grow concerned. He leaned toward his friend, trying to see his face.  
  
  
  
...T-Thankyou, Gateau... Marron said all too quietly as he placed the picture on the coffee table and continued to stare at it in choked silence. Very unsettling.  
  
Gateau waved his hand in front of Marron's eyes, Yo, earth to Marron! Come in Marron!  
  
I'm alright, Marron said curtly, pushing Gateau's hand away. Gateau obligingly withdrew his hand, puzzled. What was wrong? Marron looked pretty upset. But he'd been fine before dinner-  
  
DINNER.  
  
Gateau mentally smacked himself as he realized the problem. Marron always took his Zoloft AT DINNER. But tonight he must've forgotten, and now... Oh gods...  
  
Something about the picture had upset him, and Gateau knew that reasons were probably really personal. Still, Gateau knew how it felt having to bottle up painful feelings... That was why he'd started painting the splotchy crap he did. Marron, as far as Gateau knew, didn't really have any such outlet, and from the distraught look on his face, he needed one BAD...  
  
Marron, what's the matter?  
  
Nothing, Gateau.  
  
Oh cut the crap, Marron, I know something's bothering you. Please tell me. I won't laugh.  
  
I'm not worried about you laughing! Marron snapped, glaring at Gateau, I'm worried about... other things you might do...  
  
Gateau sighed, Marron, whatever it is, you can tell me. Please?  
  
And why should I?  
  
Because you're the only goddam friend I have left in this goddam world...! Gateau just about exploded. He managed to calm himself when he saw the frightened look in Marron's eyes and continued a bit more gently, Because you're all I have right now... And I want you to trust me.  
  
Marron sighed, and nodded gravely, You promise you won't... react negatively?  
  
Of course. Gateau said, in all sincerity.  
  
Marron heaved a sigh of all sighs and turned his gaze to the floor, It's my brother...  
  
What about him?  
  
Carrot... My brother... Marron choked on the last word before pausing and taking a deep breath, He disowned me, Gateau.  
  
Gateau's breath hissed through his teeth as icy shock froze his heart,   
  
He's ashamed of our blood relation, Marron continued in a barely steady voice, So he's severed any and all connections we have... And he's forbidden Tira from contacting me as well. I mean, she's snuck me a few letters, but I can't write back to her, because Carrot might find out...  
  
Gateau shook his head, Wait a minute, Marron. WHY would Carrot ever do that?  
  
Marron paused for a second, _That_, you cannot know.  
  
The younger man lowered his eyes and bowed his head in shame.  
  
Gateau frowned and extended his hand toward Marron's face. Ever so gently, he placed his fingertips on his companion's chin and brought Marron's face close to his own.  
  
I know a lot more than you think.  
  
Marron's breath hitched and his eyes grew wide and fearful,   
  
Gateau lowered his hand and sighed, rising from the couch, I'll be right back.  
  
Marron waited in tentative silence until Gateau returned and sat back down. He carefully took Marron's hand and placed something into it. Marron fearfully lowered his eyes to see what he'd been given. It was a plastic container full of tiny blue capsules. It was labeled, anti-depressant. Marron slowly looked up at Gateau, his eyes wide with disbelief, You mean... You knew... You are...?  
  
Take one of mine, Gateau said softly, Seeing you like this is breaking my heart.  
  
Marron said nothing. He stared numbly at Gateau for a few silent seconds before opening the container and downing one of the pills.   
  
Now. Tell me everything.  
  
Marron looked up at Gateau with those intense amber eyes of his, burning with some untold fear, as he took a deep breath and began.  
  
I met Danish in college. I was in my sophomore year, as was he. We had Advanced Music Theory Class together. He sat next to me and tried to pass me notes, but being the studious scholar that I am, I refused to take them while I was supposed to be listening to what the professor said. But we talked outside of class and eventually, we became very close friends. He was very different from the students at the college. It was his spontaneity and his energy that I came to favor. He was so playful, and funny. Everyone else was so serious and aloof. Like me, I suppose. But Danish was also very kind to me. He was pretty much the only one who didn't ignore me or verbally bash me about the way I looked. He reminds me a little of you, Gateau, now that I think about it. He was blond, but his hair was fair and wavy, and he had these funny bangs that seemed to frame his face like pasta shells. He had pale green eyes, and he was reasonably tan, and thin, but well-built. He was really tall and he had a deep voice. When he laughed, I felt like the floor was rumbling beneath my feet. He laughed a lot too. He always wore baggy jeans, tye-dyed tee shirts that were much too big for him, and he never seemed to take off these big, coke-bottle glasses he insisted he needed to wear. But they were only frames. He'd punched the lenses out because they hurt his eyes. When I asked him why he wore them in the first place, he said they helped him to concentrate. Needless to say, he was a goofball in every aspect. But a very fine singer. His voice was light and mellow while mine was heavy and dark. But he always said I sang like an angel. He was already in a band at the time, and they were in search of a lead vocalist. I couldn't refuse. That was how I became part of my band. Danish was the guitarist, and provided some vocals, some freckly twins named Biscuit and Crumpet were the drummer and the pianist, and I became their lead singer. Our band is called Horny Unicornie. Despite the rather crude title of the band, I found that singing with them brought me joy and lifted my heart. It was as if by joining the band, I had acquired wings and had the ability to fly as high as I wished, whenever I wished. But it went deeper than that. Much deeper. Danish and I grew very close, until our closeness went beyond friendship alone. He revealed to me that he was homosexual and that he was in love with me. I had never been in love before and I was still unsure of my own sexuality, but something about it just seemed right. More flattered than shocked, I accepted his little proposal, and we started going out. It was... heavenly... When we were walking in the park or walking around the mall, he would put his arm around me or we'd hold hands, but we were both very subtle at school. We had enough problems with our peers there. It was a promising relationship. It lasted well over a year...  
  
But there was a lot I had to keep hidden. Our relationship would undoubtably not have gone over well with the fellow students, much less my brother. I spent the holidays with Carrot, while the college was closed, and I had pretty much no where else to go. He and Tira live in a nice little brick rancher in a quiet neighborhood not too far for here. I really liked staying with them. Tira was a wonderful hostess, and Carrot was always a joy to be around. Especially since he'd gotten married and settled down. That sweet, seldom-seen side of him had come into full bloom. But since I joined the band, I started dressing and acting differently. I cut my hair, wore a less conservative choice of clothing and put on make-up. Carrot kept telling me things like, I don't want people to get the wrong idea about you. I knew what he meant by that and I almost shot back at him with something like, And what is so wrong about it?, but I didn't, because then he'd know. He couldn't know about me. I assured him that I was a perfectly normal student with perfectly kosher preferences and that I just wanted to be . I kept my secret hidden for quite a while. Then it happened. Then my world came crashing down upon me...  
  
It was not even a year ago, a week after our summer break started, when Carrot and Tira and their new baby, Turnip decided to go on a weekend vacation. I would have the house to myself for three whole days. Of course I called Danish and invited him to spend the extra time with me. That evening we had dinner while watching a movie. Rain Man, I think was the name of it. When we were ready to turn in for the night, we both changed into our pyjamas and climbed into the bed my brother and Tira shared. I knew it was probably very wrong for my gay lover and I to be sleeping in that bed, but I was too blinded by my love to care much. Either way, we fell asleep in a passionate embrace.  
  
I awoke in the middle of the night to a shriek. I blinked myself into coherence in time to see Tira shooing the toddler Turnip out of the room while gawping at Danish and I. We'd become a fine knot of limbs and our hair looked like it had gone through the spin cycle. In other words, we looked like we were doing something that we weren't. Carrot came running to see what was the matter, and appeared behind his wife. When he saw me curled against Danish's body, I swear, I saw a god of destruction where my brother should have been standing. Seething, he told Tira to go into the living room and keep an eye on Radish. Tira of course scampered away and did as she was told. My heart all but stopped when Carrot stormed into the room, seized me roughly about the shoulders and dragged me out of bed to the front door, throwing me to the ground outside. I wasn't thinking or feeling anything. The arm that took the impact when I fell didn't hurt. I didn't feel ashamed that I had been caught in such a compromising situation. I barely heard what he shouted at me before the slamming the front door shut. I think he said something like, No brother of mine is going to be a lying whoring queer! But it didn't matter. I only knew one thing. I knew one word at that moment, written across my mind in big capital letters, shining like a neon restaurant sign in the night...   
  
So I did just that. I fled. And in my lilac cotton pyjamas, no less. I ran blindly down the street, feeling nothing, fearing everything. I've always heard that famous line, You can run, but you can't hide. I couldn't change who I was and I knew that. Yet I ran, like the stupid child I was. It was like I was trying to escape from my own shadow. It started to rain hard. The thunder growled and the lightning cracked like a whip against the sky. I remember huddling in the shadows under the awning of a donut shack, burying my face in my hands, and promising myself I wouldn't cry. After a half an hour or so, Danish finally found me. We were both soaking wet and shivering, but by then we... well I can't speak for him, but I knew I was numb throughout my entire body. We looked at each other for a second. His eyes seemed to say his apologies for him. Then he told me that he could no longer love me if it would cause me pain. If it would cause my family shame. He said he couldn't and wouldn't be with me if it meant such monumental sacrifices on my part. Even though my heart had shattered by this time, I had to agree with him. Breaking up was for the best, so we did. We looked into eachother's eyes a final time before going our separate ways.   
  
I do not know where he went that night. Having no place else to go, seeing as it was still summer vacation and the college was not an option, I dragged myself into the nearest alley, found the most comfortable cardboard box I could and curled up on it. But I didn't sleep. I couldn't sleep.  
  
Gateau's knuckles were white as his hands gripped the edge of the sofa. His mouth was open slightly and a mixture of pity and shock clouded his wide blue eyes.  
  
...You spent the night outside? he said in barely more than a whisper.  
  
Marron nodded solemnly.  
  
Were you scared?  
  
Yes. I was scared. Danish must've gotten a room at a Motel or something, but I had no cash on hand. I had no choice but to settle down where I did for the night. The next morning, I headed back to Carrot's house to pick up my things. Lo and behold, my duffel bag was already on the doorstep, waiting for me. I suppose Carrot didn't want to face me and wanted nothing to do with me after that night. Full of sorrow, I carried my things back to the alley I'd spent the night in to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. The five sets of clothes, my toothbrush, my shampoo and my wallet were there, but I also found a note. I opened it. It was from Tira, and written in red pen... I still have it somewhere... The note said basically that they had had to come back home early because the car broke down scarcely after they'd left the city. They took a taxi back to the house. It said that Carrot was very angry that I had lied to him and used HIS and Tira's bed for my own... purposes. I had betrayed his trust and set a bad example for my nephew. He wished to severe any contact or relations he had to me. Basically, he was telling me I don't know you, you don't know me, and last night never happened. Tira had taken the liberty of reserving an apartment for me in the nearby building. She said that she held nothing against me, but Carrot had forbidden her to contact me. She promised she would write to me whenever she could, which she did, and she even sent me money occasionally, out of concern and kindness. I really want to thank her for all she's done for me, but she said that I was never to write back to her, lest Carrot find out. She taped some pressed flowers at the bottom of the note, wishing me the best.   
  
That same day, I was in the middle of moving into the apartment Tira had so thoughtfully booked for me, when our drummer, Biscuit came to me and handed me a note. He said Danish had given it to him the previous night, and told him to give it to me the next day. Of course I tore it open immediately after Biscuit left. It said something along the lines of My dearest Marron. You were my first and my only love and I know I was yours. I always knew love hurts, but I never knew it could kill. Now that we are apart, my soul has died. You were all I had to live for, and now that you are gone, all that remains is to say goodbye. Goodbye Marron, my love. He concluded the letter with a quote from Shakespeare; I love you all the more, the hearers may cry amen. I knew what this meant even before Biscuit returned with his brother Crumpet to tell me that Danish had slit his wrists while in the bathtub. I was crushed. I felt like curling up into a ball, making myself smaller and smaller until I disappeared altogether. But I was never one to give up so easily. I'd learned how to accept things and move on. I went to Danish's funeral. I wore a long black dress for no real reason. I placed a red rose upon his grave, knelt at the headstone and spared a few tears for my lost love. I remained there for hours reminiscing, and mulling over my own deep regrets. I then picked up the rose, kissed the petals lightly, and replaced it upon the earth beneath which he lay. I have never returned to his grave, since that day. I feel if I did, I might never leave. I might never be able to let go. Horny Unicornie is still going strong. We selected a very talented young lady to be our replacement guitarist. She and I are good friends. No one has yet told her of the guitarist before her. The memories of Danish, and the fact that I have lost my only brother plague my thoughts and dreams, infecting my mind with depression. After a month, I started taking Zoloft and it worked wonders for me, but even the strongest medicines can't change the fact that this whole thing has destroyed my heart. I feel as though I could never love again, because it would be... a betrayal. I already betrayed my brother. I just can't...  
  
Marron was silenced as Gateau gently placed a finger over his lips, he said softly, You don't have to say any more.  
  
Gateau looked at Marron, who had obediently stopped speaking. The older man was full of shock. He knew that Marron was a tell-the-truth-the-whole-truth-and-nothing-but-the-truth kind of guy, and was not one to twist a story and portray himself as the righteous sufferer'. He told no lies, left out no incriminating details, made no one out to be the bad guy'. He spoke the stark truth, and that was what made it all the more horrifying. Gateau was even more amazed at how smooth Marron managed to keep his expression. His face was not contorted with grief as the face of any other in his shoes would surely be. His brow was quirked only slightly, and his intense amber eyes simply burned with a thousand unshed tears, glittering with a sorrowful golden fire. Gateau could feel moisture pricking at his own eyes as he shook his head slowly, slightly, never letting his eyes leave Marron's.  
  
My gods, Marron... I can't tell you how sorry I am...   
  
Marron stared in silence at his friend for a moment before turning his face away in shame.  
  
I don't want your pity, Gateau. But I do appreciate the fact that you care.  
  
Of course I care, Marron. Gateau said sincerely, I kinda know how you feel... I mean, I'm always struggling with my job, working from sunrise to sunset in order to pay for my apartment. I don't eat very well either, and up until you called all those months ago, I'd lost any connections with the few friends I had. I'm not trying to beat you with my misery, or anything. I can't begin to imagine what you've gone through, but I have depression too, and I know how much it hurts...  
  
Gateau waited for even the slightest reaction from Marron. Nothing. He sighed, And I just want you to know that I'm here for you.  
  
Gateau stared at Marron intently, trying to read his mind since he couldn't see his face. Gods, he couldn't imagine what it would be like to be the one to live after your only love had... gone away. Gateau sort of could relate to the sibling thing. He'd lost Eclaire when they were still young. He'd gotten word that his little sister had been kidnapped, that she was working somewhere in South America for some big corporation that secretly had millions of children slaving away for them. Gateau had had to rely on these rumors over the years, since no real evidence ever turned up. But what if it turned out that Eclaire had actually just left because she didn't want Gateau for a brother anymore? Ye GODS, that would suck so much ass...   
  
Gateau genuinely felt for his friend as he watched him... Marron's hands were clasped tightly in his lap. His shoulders were tense. His head was bowed, and his face turned away, obscured by one of his two long tresses of hair. It was then that Gateau fervently wished to be one of those awesome fairy god mothers who could make your worries leave you with the simple and effortless wave of a wand. But Gateau was just about the furthest thing from a fairy and he certainly didn't have a magic wand on hand. There would be no pumpkins turning into carriages. There would be no mice to become horses. There was no ball with Prince Charming waiting in a lovely white suit to take the hand of the one for whom he was destined. And Marron probably wouldn't wear heels anyway, so the glass shoes were a definite no.   
  
Oh hell, he had to do _something_. Marron's despondence was absolutely KILLING him...  
  
Not knowing what to expect, Gateau shyly wrapped an arm around Marron's shoulders and gently pulled him closer. Gateau was pleasantly surprised when Marron didn't pull away and the smaller of the two actually leaned against his friend, resting his head on Gateau's shoulder. The smell of lilacs invaded Gateau's nostrils as Marron did this, and that fluffy, recently shampooed blue-black hair seemed to call out to be ruffled. But this was hardly the time and place for that, so instead, Gateau simply petted Marron's hair ever so gently with his free hand. Marron breathed a contented sigh and closed his eyes. Gateau smiled. He had been wishing for this ever since he was a teenager. He'd held a candle for Marron all his young adult life, and he was finally granted the pleasure of holding the beautiful man. Only he wasn't doing this to indulge his own whim. He was half-hugging Marron for the sole benefit of MARRON. Gateau wasn't doing it for himself. He was doing it to help another. This brought a very nice feeling. A new warmth came tiptoeing into Gateau's heart. It was a revelation.   
  
Together, in this way, they fell asleep.


	3. Solitude, Soliloquy, Serendipity

**~PART TWO~**  
Solitude, Soliloquy, Serendipity  
  


_The things we love completely,   
we are fated to destroy._  
~Elton John  
  
  
Is that all? Marron asked, an edge of skepticism embedded in his voice as he eyed the single suitcase Gateau carried into his apartment.  
  
Yep, that's it. I'm not a pack rat and I don't have a lot of knick knacks and useless crap, Gateau confirmed. He looked up at Marron smiling gratefully, Geez Marron, this is so cool of you. I can't tell you how much this means to me.  
  
I can, Marron replied with a simple smile, Half the mortgage, taking the couch every other night, and revolutionizing your hygienic habits.  
  
What is this, Marron? I try to say thank you, and you come back at me with something smart and literal, Gateau said, rolling his eyes. Then he ruffled Marron's hair for the sole purpose of annoying him. Ah, good old friendly revenge.  
  
Gateau and Marron had come to the decision that until Gateau got a raise, he would sell his lovely evil dirt-cheap, bathroom-less apartment, and he would move in with Marron. He would still have to pay half the mortgage, and they'd already drawn up a nighttime schedule; Marron got the bed and Gateau got the couch for a night, and the next night, they'd switch. Likewise, every other night, Gateau had to do the dishes, the shopping, etc. Gateau would also have to do something about his... sense of responsibility when it came to maintenance of one's habitat. Marron made it very clear that Gateau was NOT going to crappify his clean, shiny apartment. Period. But Gateau had to admit, it was a very fair bargain, and having to pay only half a mortgage, Gateau wouldn't always be strapped for cash. He would also finally be able to have a decent dinner every night! Fooood...  
  
Needless to say, Gateau wouldn't have had it any other way. To top it off, he and Marron had grown tight since they'd both come out to each other with their depression a month ago. Gateau found himself calling Marron every other night, just to make sure he was doing okay... Just to hear his voice...  
  
Marron muttered irritably, smoothing down his fluffied hair, Fine then, you're here. You can put your things on the couch. Don't you have to go to work or something?  
  
No. I'm off today. What, are you trying to get rid of me already? Gateau teased.  
  
  
  
Gateau flinched, as if he'd been slapped, That one hurt.  
  
Totally incorrigible... Marron simply muttered to himself and smiled. Then, oh wonder of all wonders, Marron went ahead and carried Gateau's suitcase in for him, setting it on the couch. Gateau followed and flopped down on the couch, opening his suitcase to begin the happy task of settling in. First he took his toiletries, his razor, his comb, and his Zoloft into the bathroom where he placed them all ever so neatly in the cabinet above the sink (he put his Zoloft right next to Marron's, hee hee hee...). Then Gateau took out his spiral-bound watercolor notebook and his paints and placed them on the coffee table. Lastly, he picked up the big wad of clothes he'd neglected to fold before packing, and carried them under one arm, with his suitcase under the other.   
  
Top two drawers are free, Marron, the ever-efficient conversationalist informed him as he passed. Gateau nodded and went over to the bed. He sat down on the edge of the mattress and began to painstakingly fold his clothes. After the grueling task was done, he placed them neatly in the top two drawers of the dresser. Gods, it sucked having to be tidy. Everything had to be in place, with such precision... Gateau wouldn't have been surprised if the clothes in Marron's closet were organized by color. Ack! They were! Everything was just so PERFECT. Hmph. Annoying.  
  
After hanging up his night robe in the closet (careful to put it amongst the other dark blue items, of course) and placing his suitcase on the floor beside it, Gateau was finally done his simple, yet oh-so-strenuous into his new home. He found Marron sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over a book that was as thick as a telephone directory. Piles and piles of lined paper inscribed with meticulous notes in Marron's concise, practically microscopic typewriter-looking hand littered the table top.  
  
Five o'clock.  
  
Marron asked, looking up from the big-ass book. He was wearing his glasses, Gateau noticed. Marron looked so cute when he wore his glasses... They made his eyes look bigger, more sparkly, and he looked a bit less like an overly studious, ramrod-serious scholar.   
  
I said it's five-o'clock, Gateau repeated, Let's go do something.  
  
I don't know, Gateau... Marron said, his voice reluctant, I really should study for this economics exam on Friday...  
  
But today is SATURDAY... Gateau said, putting stress on his words, and gesturing grandly, You have all week to glue yourself to your books. And you don't really get out enough as it is. Look at your skin, man!  
  
Marron frowned, Gateau, you know as well as I do that this skin color runs in my family. I've always been pale.  
  
Gateau rolled his eyes, Look, my point is you work too hard. You care too much. Maybe if you actually studied the concept of good old F-U-N, you wouldn't be such a stick in the mud. If you don't start making an effort to have fun, you're gonna turn into a mindless zombie or something. Marron, for once in your life, LIVE a little.  
  
Marron sighed, shaking his head, Alright, alright... But if I get less than a ninety on that test, I'm teaching you how to cook.  
  
Oh gods. Gateau? In the kitchen? Cooking? When did THAT ever become an option? No. Bad Marron. As shocked and terrified as he was by the idea, Gateau nodded his head in agreement. Satisfied, Marron closed up the book, put his papers into a nice, neat little pile between the cover and the first page, removed his glasses, and rose from his chair.  
  
So, do you have something in mind? he inquired.   
  
Gateau said smiling, I wanna take you down to the Double-T Diner.  
  
Marron's eyes widened for a second and he shook his head, No, Gateau, I can't go there...  
  
Why not? Gateau asked, following Marron, who was carrying his book over to his schoolbag to be put away, It'll be great. There's music, and good shit to drink, and all the cool people in town hang out there.  
  
Marron zipped up his backpack, then looked up at Gateau, the faintest glimmer of fear in his eyes, Exactly... Gateau I'm always so nervous when I'm around new people. And I...  
  
Aw, c'mon Marron, just stick with me and everything'll be fine. You'll have a good time. I promise, Gateau then screwed up his features into that pitiful puppy-face he knew even prison guards probably couldn't resist,   
  
Marron paused for one contemplative minute before looking up at Gateau and silently nodding. Gateau smiled and gave him a light pat on the back, Alright then, you go get ready, and I'll do the same.  
  
Half an hour later, the two were cruising down the street on Gateau's lovely little Harley. The Double-T Diner was about twelve blocks away, next to a Rite Aid in a little shopping center. It was a relatively big diner. It had huge windows, a revolving glass door, and roller girls cruising around the parking lot like dainty little sharks in French maid outfits. And the exterior was covered in reflective aluminum. Shiny.  
  
Gateau parked his motorcycle and helped Marron to dismount. Marron was wearing a black jacket over a dark purple mid-drift, along with black clamdiggers, under which he wore fishnet stockings. He had put blue-violet shadow around his eyes for that (sexy) look. Gateau was wearing his prized black leather jacket over a red tank, along with baggy jeans tucked into combat boots. He was also wearing quite a bit of jewelry. He had several chains and a dog collar around his neck, and enough studded wrist cuffs to make a punk rocker cry. The two entered the diner, Gateau leading the way, with Marron following shyly behind.  
  
The floor was covered with red and yellow checked carpeting, and the table tops were all round, white and shiny. A disco ball hung from the ceiling and there were several jukeboxes along the walls. To the left was a bar. Gateau led a very hesitant Marron to this, and they both had a seat. The bartender, a man in his thirties with a goatee and spiky hair, momentarily came to attend them, Hey Gateau, what's up? he said. The green-eyed bartender had a lisp. Amusing.  
  
The disco ball... Gateau said blandly, pointing to the mirrored ball over their heads, then laughing slightly, The usual, job sucks, blah blah eat, work, pay for apartment, blah.  
  
The bartender smiled, his toothy grin slightly lopsided, What can I get ya, man?  
  
Currant, gimme a Strawberry Daiquiri.  
  
Currant, the bartender nodded, then turned to Marron, And sumthin' for you, sir?  
  
Marron hesitated. He had never tasted alcohol in his life and was doubtful as to whether he should expose his virgin taste buds to such terrors now, Um... Just ice water for me...  
  
Are you sure, Marron? Gateau asked, It's on me.  
  
Thank you, Gateau. I'm sure.  
  
Alright, be with you momentarily, Currant said before turning to fetch their drinks.   
  
Gateau and Marron just sat at the bar for a while, sipping from their glasses, and talking quietly. When the fluorescent pink faux fur-covered clock struck six, some attendants began moving the tables to the sides of the room. As soon as the floor was clear, people clustered in the middle of the room and started to dance.   
  
Hey, Marron, you wanna cut the rug? Gateau asked, after taking the final swig of his drink, rising from his stool.   
  
Well, if you mean dance, I think not, Marron replied, I'm not very good.  
  
I doubt that, Gateau said, smiling playfully. Still, Marron shook his head, No, you go ahead... I'd rather not.  
  
Gateau shrugged, Alright, your loss, and he joined the crowd in the middle of the dance floor. Marron watched as people swayed to the beat, or twisted to the rhythm, cutting the rug as Gateau so colloquially put it. Marron was actually quite a good dancer. He was very nimble and graceful if he was wearing the right clothing and shoes for it. But there were just too many people out there... and he didn't think his style of dancing would've gone well with theirs...  
  
Um, sir?   
  
Marron turned, upon hearing Currant's voice behind him, requesting his attention. The Bartender leaned over the counter, looking expectantly at Marron.  
  
Tell your friend that'll be five-fifty five.  
  
Marron nodded. Oh gods... He would have to go out there amongst the crowd after all... Sucking in a deep breath and screwing up his courage, Marron left the bar. He delicately wove in between people, careful not to bump into anyone or throw off someone's groove. He finally found Gateau, socializing with a couple of guys close to the far end of the room.  
  
He started to call out, but was interrupted as he was nearly knocked to the ground from behind. He peered over his shoulder. A guy who looked, to say the least, somewhat pissed, leered at Marron, glaring at him with dark, accusing eyes.  
  
Watch where you're going, queer. the mean-looking dude growled, Marron started to back off, when he felt a pair of hands come to a rest upon his shoulders.  
  
_You _ ran into _him_. Gateau's voice menaced protectively from behind Marron.  
  
The guy snapped, Well, tell your pretty little fag hag to go shag someone else's leg.  
  
The next split second later found the bastard dangling over a foot from the ground, the collar of his jacket held fast in Gateau's strong fist.  
  
Shut. The. Fuck. Up.  
  
The guy, who was very much dwarfed by Gateau (hey, he was nearly seven feet tall, after all), clawed at Gateau's wrist, and judging from the look in his eyes, he was about to wet himself. Gateau put him on the receiving end of a laser-intense glare, drawing a whimper out of his smaller opponent. Oh gods, Gateau wanted more than anything to seize the damnable dog of a homophobe in both hands and break him over his knee like a stick, but Gateau knew better. Marron wouldn't have wanted him to display such violence, so Gateau set his victim down and glared at him some more.  
  
Now get lost.  
  
EEP!' was written all over the guy's face as he scuttled off like a scolded dog with its tail between its legs. With profuse apologies clamoring to be spoken, Gateau turned to Marron, only to find that he'd gone. That was SO Marron. Walking away from a potential scrap so as not to get dragged into it. Marron always had been opposed to violence. He would've been right at home in the sixties, yepyep.  
  
But where did he go?   
  
Gateau plowed through the crowd, stopping only for a split second to hand Currant a ten dollar bill (Oh, to hell with the change!), and hurriedly made his way to the door. Once outside, Gateau found Marron standing beside the Harley, looking out at the street, with his back to Gateau.   
  
That was fast... Marron said a bit distantly, not taking his eyes off the road.  
  
What was?  
  
You came out to find me almost immediately after I left... I assume that means you didn't take the time to teach that man a lesson with your fists.  
  
No. I scared the shit outta him, but I didn't hurt the bastard, Gateau said, a little bitterly. That jerk had gotten off so easily. He deserved a few good slams _at least_, the son of a bitch.  
  
...I'm glad... Marron sighed more than said, still watching the traffic slink by. It was then that Gateau took it upon himself to go right up to Marron and wrap his arms around the smaller man from behind, for no real reason. Surprise, surprise, Marron didn't pull away. He didn't even tense up. Now that was a first. Wow.  
  
...Are you okay?  
  
  
  
Marron, I'm so sorry...  
  
Don't be, Marron said quietly, It happens all the time.  
  
Gateau sighed heavily, holding Marron a little closer. He moaned guiltily, ...I shouldn't have made you come...  
  
It's not your fault, Marron said assuringly, as if he were talking to Gateau from a short distance. As if he didn't even notice the way he was being held in the older's man's arms, I wanted to come.  
  
No you didn't.  
  
Gateau, if I had really wanted to stay home, I would've refused to do otherwise. If I had truly wanted to pay more attention to my books than to my friends, I would still be sitting in that chair, stiff as a statue, poring over page upon page of recycled information. I really wanted to take a break, and despite what happened tonight, I'm glad I did.  
  
Gateau was at a loss for words. Big, lengthy, deep, philosophical speeches were not something he was good at. Besides, he was too content holding Marron in this way to really care about saying anything more. They stood in silence, Marron's slender frame held gently against Gateau's body. Gateau had gotten to hug Marron a second time! And Marron didn't! even! flinch! It was beautiful...  
  
After a few moments of the pleasant, peaceful contact, Gateau spoke.  
  
Is there anything I can do to make it up to you? Can I take you somewhere else?  
  
There was a brief spell of silence before Marron softly responded.  
  
  
  
Gateau sighed, finally releasing Marron, and starting up his motorcycle. He helped Marron on, then revved up the engine. Marron laced his arms around Gateau's middle, and together, they headed home to their cozy, safe little apartment.  
  
  
The next day, upon arriving home from another cruddy day at the cruddy Mickey-D's, Gateau was struggling to unlock the apartment door with one big, clumsy hand while holding a humungus bag of groceries with the other big, clumsy hand. After dropping his cargo (and yelling Damn! Aw hell with it!) he managed to get the door open. He picked the huge bag up off the floor, and took it inside, not bothering to even TRY to close the door behind him. Gateau set the bag down on the counter top, and began to unpack it. He reached inside, only to recoil in disgust upon touching something that felt slimy and none too pleasant. He'd broken the eggs. Goddamit.  
  
After the undamaged portion of the groceries were properly stowed away in the fridge/ cabinets, and the shattered eggs had been properly disposed of, Gateau meandered toward the couch, where he hoped to catch an ever studious Marron by surprise (and hopefully ruffle his hair, Snicker, snicker, Grin, grin). Well, there was the couch... the very unoccupied couch. Marron was nowhere to be found. His backpack was gone too. No bag, no boy. Odd...  
  
Gateau shook his head, puzzled, then wandered over to the kitchen table, to see if Marron had gone and left a note for him. He had. Marron's impossibly neat, tiny handwriting read:  
  
Gateau,  
I went out for a while, and I'll be back around nine-thirty.   
Soup is on the stove. Go ahead and heat it up if and when you get hungry. I already ate.   
Until then,  
~Marron  
  
Gateau thought, puzzling over Marron's absence, Where could he have gone? Gateau glanced over at the stove, where sure enough there was a pot sitting on the burner, then up at the digital clock on top of the microwave.   
  
Quarter of seven. Time for dinner.   
  
Gateau eagerly sidled over to the stove and lifted the lid from the pot, so that he could steal a whiff of the pot's delectable contents. Chicken noodle. Mmmm! Nummy.  
  
  
Marron slowly and carefully opened the door and stepped inside. It was dark inside, the only light provided by a lamp above the bar. An upbeat tune filled the room and a cluster of people danced within the semi-darkness of the designated grooving area. The Fairy Tale was a hangout/bar for gays that Marron had been meaning to visit for a while now. He just hadn't had the courage up until this point. The first and last time he had been here was the night before Danish died...  
  
Marron timidly made his way over to the bar, trying to pay no mind to the few wolf-whistles and catcalls that issued from the crowd as he passed the dance area. He had seat on a stool at the far end of the counter. The bartender, a plain sort of man with a kind face, came over to wait on his new customer.  
  
What can I get ya, hon?  
  
Marron looked up, seeing his own sad eyes reflected within those of the bartender, Can you do a cranberry cocktail without any alcohol?  
  
The bartender looked a little surprised at first, but nevertheless shrugged and nodded. Moments later, he returned with the rather unusual request.   
  
Here you are. That's two-fifty.  
  
Hey, sweetie! You can put that on MY tab!  
  
Marron wheeled around, upon hearing a familiar voice behind him, and found himself staring into two sparkling ocean-blue eyes.  
  
Marron smiled upon seeing his old friend, Mille Feuille, for the first time in years. The magenta-haired crossdresser grinned from ear to ear and threw his arms around Marron, sweeping the younger man off his chair in a very twirly hug.  
  
Marron, Marron, Marron, look what three years have done to us! Milphey sang, finally letting go of Marron, Look at you, boy! What the hell are you dressed as? he asked, giving Marron a funny look as eyed Marron's black tank, bondage pants, and patent leather platforms Oh well, I'm not really one to talk am I? Mille asked rhetorically. He was wearing a pink tank and a white skirt that over-shadowed baby-blue mary-janes. Marron smiled and laughed a little. Suddenly, Mille's smile was banished by a frown, and he leaned close to Marron, scrutinizing him with intense aqua eyes. Marron felt something squirm within him as Mille leered at him.  
  
Oh, Marron, this is a dire sin you have committed. I'm very disappointed in you... the transvestite said in a grave tone, This simply will not do...  
  
What is it? Marron asked, a little worried.  
  
Mille shook his head, tsk-tsk-ing, How dare you... show up at the local queer bar... with. your. makeup. smudged.  
  
Marron made a high-pitched noise as Mille seized his chin with one hand and used his other hand to clean up the offending smear below Marron's left eye.   
  
he said, backing off, satisfied.   
  
Marron sighed, shaking his head You don't change, do you?  
  
No, I don't. I'm still shameless and totally incorrigible, Mille said, shrugging and giving Marron a playful smile, And you're still the prettiest little thing I ever did see.  
  
Marron blushed a little, And you.  
  
Milphey sniffled at this, smiling sappily Aaawwww, c'mere you! he said before squishing Marron with another hug. He released Marron, only to immediately grab his hand and drag him through the crowd, shouting something about, meeting the peeps.  
  
Twenty minutes later, the five persons were lounging around on a couch towards the back of the joint, chatting. Marron was introduced to a short, skinny blond guy with straight, fair hair, pale violet-magenta eyes and an angelic face. His name was Woody Chardonnay. He wore a pale pink button-down shirt, baggy blue-jeans and a backwards baseball cap. Woody had brought along his boyfriend, whose name was Mousse, simply put. Mousse was almost as pale as Marron, with big brown puppy eyes, and shoulder-legnth wavy brown hair. His trenchcoat, tank, and cargo pants were all black and his forearms were decorated with a hoard of silver chain jewelry. The third and final friend of Mille's was an eighteen-year old lesbian named Apple Cora. Her hair hung in short, flaming red curls, and her bright, blue eyes were heavily made-up. She had adorable freckles, a strong, athletic-looking body, and wore a tight wife-beater tank and cargo pants, along with a black leather dog collar. They all ordered drinks and Mille struck up a grand chat amongst his homies'. By this time, Marron had somewhat gotten out of the clutches of his traditional shyness and was an active member in the conversation.   
  
Tell me, Mille, what are you doing here? Marron asked.  
  
Whaddya mean? Mille replied, giving Marron a funny look, Even a cute, innocent little angel such as yourself must know that this place is the flock-all for fags.   
  
Marron, who was very well aware that he was currently sitting in the flock-all for fags', tried (unsuccessfully) to restrain a subtle blush, But, what about Paris? Aren't you still modeling for Gucchi?  
  
Oh sure, Mille replied, waving casually, But it gets very, VERY strenuous if you don't get a vacation once in a while. One day I got nostalgic, and an hour spent bitching at Mr. Mizo got me three weeks off and a coach ticket to America. I decided to return to my roots, see what was up with my old friends.  
  
Marron nodded. Milphey leaned toward Marron, eying him craftily, Sooooo, how's that sexy brother of yours?  
  
Marron felt his heart seize up for a second, and his hands gripped his glass a little more tightly. He sighed slightly to calm himself and responded quietly,   
  
Ah yes... Mille nodded. Sensing he'd hit a sensitive spot with Marron, he quickly changed the subject.  
  
So, I hear you and Gateau are in the same apartment building, Marron. Mille said, over a Shirley Temple.  
  
Marron nodded, taking a sip of his perfectly legal cocktail, We're sharing my apartment.  
  
Woody snorted into his daiquiri, and everyone except Marron erupted in a communal and waggling of eyebrows.  
  
Marron frowned, Come off it. Gateau is just having some financial trouble and he's staying with me until he can get a raise.  
  
Yeah, suuuuure... Mille teased. Being Marron's closest friend (other than Tira) during their teenage days, Mille knew all about Gateau's attraction to Marron. Everyone did, seeing as Gateau made it so! damn! obvious!  
  
Marron flushed, I said, come off it! Gods, I get enough of this from the people at school, and just about anyplace, come to think of it... I don't need it from you too.  
  
Are people bullying you, Marron? Milphey asked, his features serious.  
  
Marron nodded somberly.   
  
Woody said, placing his arm around Marron's shoulders in a gesture that was meant to be friendly, but only served to make Marron uneasy, How could anyone be mean to a beautiful young flower such as yourself?  
  
Apple Cora said in her low, rough butch voice, Well, maybe they won't be so cocky after I've introduced em to my good friend, Madame Fist!  
  
Mousse contributed, his features stony. Mousse never really said much, Marron had discovered. His face never said much either. He was more of a stoic than Marron! Quite a feat indeed, but at least Marron actually spoke on a very rare occasion. Oh fine, so Mousse grunted a few times, but still...   
  
Woody released Marron and laced his arms around his gothie boyfriend, whose stern expression softened slightly as he leaned into his lover's embrace.  
  
Well, next time someone picks on you, you just tell us and the jerk will get what's coming to them, Mille said, gesturing with the hand he was holding his glass with, nearly sending cherry crap flying at everybody.  
  
Yeah, that's right, piped up Mille's cute little blonde friend, who'd laid his head upon Mousse's shoulder, You can hang with us. No one's gonna take on five of us at a time. It doesn't matter how wussy we are.  
  
Well, some of us aren't wusses, fairy-boy, Apple Cora said, flexing her shoulders and looking very smug. Woody took this opportunity to lob a balled-up paper napkin at her, hitting Apple square between the eyes.  
  
She responded with a very annoyed , and a smart crack to the back of Woody's head. He yelped and Mousse coiled his arms protectively around his smaller boyfriend, glaring with silent contempt at Apple, who stuck out her tongue.   
  
Hey, knock it off, Milphey admonished. Apple slouched, her brow at level with her eyelashes.  
  
I. Hate. Blondes.  
  
  
Nine o'clock found Mille and Marron sitting alone together on the couch, sipping their respective beverages in silence, watching the various couples swaying and sashaying upon the dance floor. The silence, save for the slow, melodic thrum of a slow dance tune that was currently playing, was somewhat unsettling. Mille broke the ice.  
  
Do you like him?  
  
Marron gagged into his glass, nearly swallowing (translation; choking on) an ice cube. He was a bit thrown by this very blunt question. _Do you like him?'_ What the hell...?!  
  
he managed to squeak.  
  
Mille replied with a no-duh' look on his face, Do you like him?  
  
Marron nervously fiddled with a strand of hair that had fallen into his eyes. He could feel his face growing hot and some very odd sensations brewing in the pit of his stomach.  
  
...Mille... That's very wrong...  
  
What is?  
  
Just... Asking me something so personal.  
  
Mille grinned, Then you do.  
  
I never said I did! Marron snapped, hating how his voice was shaking.  
  
But you're bluuuushiiiing... Mille teased in a singsong voice.  
  
This is not a suitable conversation for us to be having! After over three years apart...  
  
Why can't you just answer the question?  
  
Marron slapped his hands over his ears, blushing pink as a persimmon,   
  
Okay! Okay! Marron, chill! Milphey said, gently placing a hand on Marron's taut shoulder, You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I didn't mean any harm.  
  
Marron heaved a shuddering sigh, trying to oust the unwelcome flush from his cheeks, It's alright.  
  
Silence.  
  
The music played on... played on... and the couples continued to dance... dance...  
  
  
  
  
  
Marron took a deep breath, and said very quietly, If you must know... I do. Marron's heart turned to ice, thrumming slowly, sluggishly, painfully. He couldn't believe he'd just said that out loud! Actually, he hadn't really let himself believe it in the first place. He'd known all along that his feelings for Gateau went a bit beyond those that accompanied friendship... Maybe his brother's homophobic attitude had dissuaded him... Maybe he was just scared. Either way, denial had plagued his soul throughout the years, until Mille cured it with that simple, yet medicinal question.  
  
I thought so, Mille said, smiling. It wasn't a malicious ha!-I-knew-it! smile. It was more along the lines of... understanding? Now was that so hard?  
  
Marron, who was NOT liking the tomato-red blush that hovered along his cheekbones, lowered his eyes,   
  
Nuh-uh! Don't you look down at the floor! Mille scolded good-naturedly, slipping a finger underneath Marron's chin, gently forcing him to look up. Marron very reluctantly brought himself at eye-level with his friend who gave him a sympathetic half-smile, See, Marron, that's the trouble. You're too emotionally closeted. That's why you're having all these problems.  
  
I can't help it, Mille, Marron said wretchedly, I'm just... shy.  
  
There's nothing wrong with being shy, Marron, Mille said in all honesty, before smirking and adding, In fact, that's probably how Gateau would like you best.  
  
  
  
  
  
Marron frowned. Mille rolled his eyes, chuckling, A JOKE, Marron! Just a little joke! Gods, sarcasm is sooooo lost on you, man! Either way... Mille said, returning to his no-nonense mode', the schizo, You're not going to get anywhere by hiding yourself away. You have accept what your heart tells you.  
  
Marron still frowned, I accept it all too well, he said bitterly.  
  
Mille shrugged, Then you're one step closer.  
  
Closer to what?  
  
Oh hell... Milphey groaned, throwing his hands up over his head, then looking Marron in the eye, Look, Marron. Bottom line, you can't keep these things bottled up, the crossdresser smiled bracingly, You just have to try to express your feelings more.  
  
Marron gulped, trying not to let his expression betray his fear, That will be hard.  
  
Yes, it will, Mille nodded, But once you get started, it only gets easier. Believe me, I know... Mille said, suddenly remembering what a withdrawn child he had once been. Well, you wouldn't know that from looking at him know... HELL no... he added, Gateau likes you a lot. I'm sure he's been waiting for you to respond to his affections for a long time.  
  
That thought bolstered Marron's courage. Gateau had offered himself to Marron for years without getting so much as a nod or a shaking of the head in response. Yes, Marron decided. He would show n' tell' Gateau how he felt, deep within his heart (a heart that he NEVER wore on his sleeve). If not for himself, Marron would do it for Gateau.   
  
  
Gateau, are you absolutely sure about this? Marron asked for the hundredth time, his head and shoulders hidden inside the cabinet above the sink.   
  
Gateau said in an exasperated groan from his perch on his throne' (he was sitting on the lid of the toilet), Gods, Marron, how many times are you gonna ask me that?  
  
I just want to make sure you know what you're doing, Marron said, emerging' from the cabinet, and shutting the door, holding a little black jar and a comb in one hand, This is permanent, you know.  
  
I heeeard you, Maaaarron. Seeeeveral tiiiimes... Gateau sang, running his fingers through his hair, which was still wet from his shower, and grinning at his friend, Besides... What true biker-dude _hasn't_ done something wild with his hair?  
  
Marron nodded, I suppose you have a point there...   
  
Besides, you did yours yourself, right?  
  
  
  
Well, I have complete faith in such a sophisticated expert like yourself.  
  
Flattery will get you nowhere, Gateau. Marron said, unscrewing the cap from the jar.  
  
_Actually, flattery works just fine._ Gateau thought to himself, with a contented smile as Marron began to gently comb his friend's much shorter hair. Little shivers of escasy raced up and down Gateau's scalp. Seeing as Gateau had really thick hair that rarely ever tangled, there was no pain either. Just lovely little tinglies that made him twitch beneath the gentle strokes of the comb.  
  
You used my shampoo. Marron stated, noticing the faint fragrance of lilacs that clung to Gateau's damp hair.   
  
Gateau admitted, Do you mind?  
  
Not at all, Marron replied, I know how to share.  
  
I like the smell, Gateau said, smirking, It turns me on.  
  
That was more than I needed to hear... Marron muttered, finishing up the preliminary combing. It had been three days since he had his little chat with Mille, and he knew he would fess up to Gateau someday. What he did not know was how to go about it. Many a sleepless night was spent puzzling over this, and many a day was spent feeling, to say the least, a bit awkward around Gateau. Marron himself was surprised at how well he managed to conceal his uneasiness, but he knew that his mask of self-control would shatter someday...  
  
Alright, Gateau, hold really still, Marron warned his friend, I'm putting in the dye now.  
  
  
  
  
One hour and half a jar of black hair dye later, the job was done. Gateau was psyched. He was so thrilled he leapt around like a five year old jacked up on sugar, did a very buzzed version of the tango with Marron for 9.8 seconds, then flew out the apartment door, dragging Marron behind him as he practically skipped down the hall, intent on showing the world his fabulously tiger-stripey hair. He hopped on his motorcycle, pausing only long enough to carefully place Marron behind him, and roared down the road. They did not return until the evening.  
  
Gateau burst into the apartment kung-fu style' ending with a dramatic pose and a very flamboyant Ha! Boom, Baby! He strode jauntily into the apartment, with Marron trailing wearily behind him, looking frazzled and tuckered out. Gateau turned around and gave Marron a funny look, Aw, come on, Hair Master, why so... blah? he asked. Marron smiled weakly at Gateau and sighed a little. His hair looked fluffier than normal. Like Marron had rubbed it with helium balloons. Above all, it merited a good ruffling.  
  
Marron feebly swatted Gateau's hand away from his hair, and stalked over to the couch where he flopped down, dog tired. After a very exuberant motorcycle ride around town, Marron was poohed to a frizzle. Yep, it was definitely nap time for the cute little rock star.  
  
I am sleepy... Goodnight.  
  
Gateau frowned, What night? It's only five-thirty!  
  
Marron yawned, I don't care. After that little joyride, I'm worn out, and done for the day. Goodnight.  
  
Gateau shrugged and nodded, Point taken. Well, you are sleepy and I am hungry. I'm gonna leave the kitchen light on so I can make myself some Cup Noodles. Yum. Anyway, I'll try to be as quiet as possible, but knowing klutzy old me...  
  
  
  
Great. Oh, and Marron?  
  
  
  
Thanks for doing such an awesome job on my hair.  
  
Marron mumbled a slurry, fuzzy you're welcome of sorts (he was already half asleep). Gateau then ventured into the kitchen and made himself a dinner of wonderfully salty just add water freeze-dried noodles and veggies. Yummy were they.   
  
After properly disposing of his plastic spoon and the empty styrofoam cup (translation; slam-dunking' the items into the trash can), Gateau sidled off in the direction of the couch. It took him the entire long' trek to the couch to remember it was already occupied. But tonight was Marron's bed-night. Gateau knew this for sure, because he and Marron had quibbled over the matter several times and ended up magnet-ing a bed vs. couch schedule' to the fridge.   
  
Sighing, Gateau gingerly slid his arms beneath Marron's body and easily lifted him from the couch. This was no problem, seeing as Marron, thought tall, was pretty damn skinny (practically anorexic, as Gateau would have said) and Gateau was very well-built (Hercules if I ever saw him as Marron would have said). For all Gateau's gentleness, the movement nudged Marron's mind partially into wakefulness. Half awake, but not coherent by any stretch of the imagination. The smaller man just continued to rest limp in Gateau's arms, his eyes closed, his breathing even, and his mind at peace (and surprisingly not even giving a thought to the fact that he was bobbing up and down with Gateau's stride, and jostled a wee bit by the movement.   
  
Gateau grinned to himself, pretending he was a groom carrying his bride across the threshold of their new home. He looked down at Marron, imagining the pale, beautifully lax face half-concealed with a veil... Somedaaaay...' sang the all-too optimistic side of his brain. Youuuu wiiiish... teased the reality-biting-you-in-the-ass side. Hey, he could dream, couldn't he???  
  
Gateau somehow managed to hold Marron comfortably with one arm, while pulling the bed covers down with the hand that was free. He ever so gently laid Marron on the bed. Half awake, Marron murmured sleepily and turned over, curling up on his side, still facing Gateau. His head rested on the back of one of his hands, while the other hand was held in a half-fist near his chest. Now that was just too damn cute.   
  
Gateau pulled the sheet and blanket over Marron in one smooth motion and spent a few seconds getting an eyeful of the beautiful man, (supposedly) deep in peaceful slumber.  
  
Meanwhile, Marron was slightly more aware of his current situation... He could feel the softness and warmth provided by the bed and blankets, and he could sense a presence leaning over him. His aura blended nicely with Gateau's, producing an invisible glow. It was right. The feeling just... made sense.  
  
Gateau just continued to drool. Marron was so beautiful... Everything from his fluffy, layered blue-black hair, down to his slender ankles and dainty feet... it was all almost too beautiful to be real. But Marron was as real as real could be, and that was precisely what made maintaining self-control all the more agonizing. Then, Gateau felt something snap within himself.  
  
Unable to restrain himself any longer, and grinning like a fuzzy, sentimental lunatic, Gateau leaned over Marron's curved frame, placing his hands on the mattress to support himself. Marron felt a shock of warmth arch up his aura as Gateau planted a chaste kiss upon his forehead.  
  
Gateau's lips remained, for a moment, lightly touching Marron's skin with a gentle warmth, before leaving all too soon. It was a struggle on Marron's behalf to keep his breathing steady and his face relaxed. Hell, it was a struggle to keep himself from going everywhere at once. His heart thrummed like a hummingbird within his ribcage, so loud and fast that he almost feared that Gateau would hear it. Pleasure glittered through Marron's body, like he was being tickled from all sides... It was quite a task indeed to keep up a convincing I'm sleeping like a rock front. But, somehow, he managed... almost...   
  
Gateau allowed himself a small smile when he noticed a very faint pink blush spreading over Marron's pale face. He ran his fingers carefully along Marron's hair line, as if memorizing the silken feel of his thick, dark hair, the peach-fuzz softness of his fair skin...  
  
Marron prayed to the gods that Gateau's attention would not be drawn to his arms, lest the newly acquired goose bumps betray him. It was almost too much to bear, but, at the same time, Marron hoped that Gateau would never, ever stop.   
  
But stop Gateau did, for he feared he would go too far, and end up waking Marron. In short, he was sure to blow it unless he called it quits. He'd done enough...  
  
Gateau sighed to himself before slowly, reluctantly, painfully forcing himself to leave Marron's side, and retreat to the couch.  
  
When Marron was sure Gateau was out of earshot, and his only accomplice was the steady whoosh of his own gentle breathing, into the warm embrace of the darkness Marron whispered, Thank you.  
  
  
A few days later, never mind how many, Marron was, surprisesurpise, leaning over his schoolwork from his stationary seat at the table. It was close to five when Gateau made his unexpected entrance, fussing with the lock in a blind rage before opening the door and closing it with a nice, unquiet slam that made Marron jump and look up.  
  
Oh, hello, Gateau. You're home early. He said, acknowledging the older man's presence with a faint smile before turning back to the day's academic slave labor.  
  
was the ever-congenial response he received,_ Of course he doesn't even get up to greet me properly. He doesn't even notice how mad I am. Too busy with his damn studies. It's a wonder his perfect, straight-A scholarly arse doesn't get sore from sitting in that chair so much... _ Gateau thought coldly, bitterly as he pulled off his jacket and threw it onto the couch.  
  
Now that was unusual. Marron looked up, once again. He'd trained' Gateau quite well by now, and his room mate was always mindful to hang up whatever he took off. Not tonight. Marron could feel the rage burning velvet-red within Gateau's aura even though he was on the other side of the room. Looking up, he could see the way Gateau stormed off, his head lowered, like that of an angry bull. Definitely not in a mental state to acknowledge what had been hammered into his mind so many times before. Marron watched as Gateau lumbered off in the general direction of the bed, and was very concerned at this point. For a few seconds, he stared stupidly off in the direction Gateau had gone. Then he shut the obscenely huge Chemistry textbook and rose from his seat. He found Gateau lying on his side, on the bed, facing the wall. His silence was a cold one as Marron went around to the other side of the bed so he could face Gateau. Even as he delicately sat upon the mattress's edge, the older man continued to glare at the wall, as if he wanted it to explode.  
  
I got fired.  
  
Gateau hadn't waited for Marron to inquire about his behavior. He was too pissed off to be patient enough to wait for him to do that. Marron inhaled sharply,   
  
Gateau said bitterly, his steely gaze never leaving the wall, She'd warned me plenty of times to change my get-up. Customers would complain about me and the way I look, sometimes, as he said this, Marron's gaze roamed over the multiple jumprings that decorated Gateau's ears, the gold stud adorning his nose, the hoard of studded cuffs encircling Gateau's lower forearms, and lastly, to the stripes he himself had put into Gateau's hair.  
  
Then, as if that wasn't enough, today, one of the other guys ratted on me. He told her I was bi, the bastard.  
  
Gateau let out a sigh and concluded, So the bitch fired me.  
  
Marron sighed a little, I'm sorry, Gateau.  
  
Looking up at Marron, Gateau could tell he meant it. Warm, golden sympathy shone from within Marron's eyes. It was as if he was projecting soft, invisible tides of comfort toward Gateau just by looking at him with those beautiful, shining eyes. Gateau felt his anger-tensed body relax slightly. His hot, scorching rage slowly cooled, eventually converting into cold fear. Gateau felt icicles of dread forming upon his heart as new potential for trouble entered his mind and Marron sensed an emotional change in the atmosphere. A creaking of rusty bedsprings announced Gateau's rolling over. Once on his back, Gateau looked up at Marron, to whom the fear in those wide blue eyes was more than obvious.  
  
You're not gonna kick me out, are you?  
  
Marron said in barely more than a whisper, shaking his head slowly, I would never do that to you, Gateau.  
  
Gateau released a tremendous sigh of relief, his head lolling back onto the pillow, Thank gods...  
  
And I'll help you find another job, Marron added, A better one.  
  
Gateau looked up at Marron, a mix of gratitude and shock flooding his eyes. It was as if this was the first time anyone had shown him such kindness, which, Marron reminded himself, was probably true.  
  
Gateau asked, bullshit with stunned appreciation. Marron simply nodded. Gateau frowned, a kind of mournful guilt working his sad expression, You're so nice to me, Marron, he said, sighing sadly, How do you do it? Just one charitable act after another. You take me into your apartment, you let me eat your food... Just the fact that you actually bothered to reenter my life at all... That alone means more to me than you'll ever know.  
  
Marron listened, a very slight smile playing over his lips as Gateau heaped praise upon him.  
  
I feel awful, Gateau continued, You've done so much nice stuff for me, and I've done nothing to make it up to you... Gateau stopped upon seeing the mild amusement flickering in Marron's eyes. The older man sighed, shaking his head Gods, I can't believe how sappy I sounded just now.  
  
Not sappy, Marron corrected gently, That sounds too negative. You were just being honest.  
  
Gateau started, searching his slender vocabulary for words that would be meaningful enough to express how he felt, ... I guess all I'm trying to say is that I owe you a lot. I mean for four years, everyone totally forgot me. I was all alone.  
  
So was I, Marron said, matter-of-factly, For a long time, I was alone as well. Whether or not you realize it, I am grateful to you too, Gateau.  
  
Gateau frowned, a little confused,   
  
For just being there for me.  
  
Gateau's expression softened. He and Marron shared a silent pause, spent simply regarding each other, while mulling over what words had been spoken, and (in Marron's case) waging a silent war against an uprising blush.  
  
But how are you gonna be able to afford-  
  
Marron admonished gently, quieting Gateau by putting a finger to his lips, I'll manage somehow. Don't let it worry you. It's going to be alright, I promise.  
  
Gateau obediently said not another word and laid back, more than ready rest his frazzled soul. Gods, what a sucky day... First, with the fries and the Big Spill'...grease all over the floor, ick, then the apron incident (don't ask), having to deal with some old methuselah who was as blind as a bat and as slow as a snail when it came to paying for her lunch, then, to top it all off, getting punted. Horrible, horrible, horrible...  
  
But a warm touch to Gateau's brow was enough to chase all of his demons away. Very slowly, he opened his eyes as Marron ever-so gently brushed some errant, striped hairs from his forehead. This really surprised Gateau. Marron was not the touchy-feely type. He always seemed to make a valiant effort to avoid physical contact of any kind and being touched by others usually made him feel super uncomfortable. Yet here he was, tenderly stroking Gateau's forehead and brow to comfort him. As shocking as this was, it was very soothing. Gateau closed his eyes, reveling in the pleasant sensations Marron's gentle, talented fingers provided. It was as if Marron was slowly putting Gateau under a spell. A soothing, constant spell that rose-tinted your world... That made the air as ambrosia, and kept you a blissful, willing captive... You would fight to remain in its grasp...   
  
Marron simply marveled, as he continued to run his fingers over Gateau's face. The older man had actually opened up to him, told Marron of his emotions, of his pain. Gateau was usually the type to satisfy a situation with a cocky smile and a series of off-color, comical remarks. He kept so much hidden behind that oh yeah, I'm a cool dude' exterior. It was also possible that he simply fought his feelings. Or that he didn't feel at all...  
  
_No, that isn't true..._ Marron thought to himself. Gateau had just made him realize that he possessed very deep feelings indeed... and Gateau had also made Marron wonder how much more he was burying away in his most secret of hearts... Marron's curiosity festered, and finally, he came to a decision;   
  
_If I want Gateau to be open and honest with me, then I need to have the decency to reveal myself to him as well._ the bolder side of Marron's mind declared. Then Mille's words echoed within his head, sending ripples through his train of thought;  
  
_You just have to try to express your feelings more._  
  
Yes...  
  
Gateau felt the warmth of Marron's fingertips leave his face. Curious, he opened his eyes and saw his younger friend staring at him with what could've been hunger in his eyes. But there was something, else. Something more prevalent. Stark terror flashed against the startlingly golden irises, set within eyes that were those of a man being led to the gallows.  
  
As Gateau was puzzling over what the hell was the matter, Marron drew a sharp, decisive breath. The smaller man then leaned over Gateau, descending upon him as if in slow motion, and touched Gateau's lips with his own.   
  
A shockwave rippled through Gateau's body, and in a rush of ecstasy, he found himself in a very mind-boggling situation; it was as if he was standing no more than a few feet away, in the body of another, watching with his own eyes, while at the same time he lay, completely blind, some emotions exploding like bombshells within him, others blooming, slowly, radiantly, like exotic flowers. It was very nearly overwhelming, to say the least, as an army of pleasurable sensations attacked from all sides in a ruthless massacre...  
  
Passions intense and unnumbered.  
Delicious shudders of escasy.  
A sliver   
of a shiver,  
slithering  
down his spine...  
  
Marron's bangs tickled Gateau's forehead, as if feathering their own kisses there, as Marron massaged Gateau's lower lip with his both of his own, his mouth saying more now in this way, than it ever had with words. Marron's kiss was very gentle, involving lips only, but it was laced with obvious affection and it warmed Gateau heart and soul, like hot chocolate after a long walk in the snow...  
  
Then, just as they came, they left.  
  
The warmth ebbed away as Marron's mouth left Gateau's. The eyes of both parties opened, and as the kiss ended, the blushfest commenced. Marron looked as though his pale face had been splashed with wine. He gave Gateau a baleful, embarrassed look before hastily rising from the bed and fleeing to the sanctuary of the couch.   
  
Gateau just lay upon the mattress, feeling as though he'd been struck by lightning, his chest rising and falling as he drew shaky, shallow breaths. Gateau felt his grasp upon reality weakening. The part of his mind that was not still bombarded by thrills was engaged in a racked contemplation. He hardly dared to believe that this was real, and not merely one of those fantasies generated by the more perverse side of him... Was it a dream? No... It was REAL...  
  
real...  
real...  
real...  
  
he could almost hear the word upon every ragged breath he released...   
Marron had kissed him.   
Oh gods. That statement was a shell shocker in itself... Then, unhappily, Gateau remembered that pitiful, disappointed look on Marron's face when they parted, and he wished more than anything to be able to somehow severe his mouth from his face so he could chew his own head off...   
Marron had kissed him.  
And Gateau had been too shocked to react. He hadn't, in any way, shown Marron how much that kiss had pleased him... How many eternities of fervent, desperate, heartfelt wishes had come true as a result of it. To top it all off, Gateau hadn't even had the decency to kiss him back... Oh gods, what if Marron thought he'd made a mistake? What if he didn't want anything to do with Gateau after that? What if it ruined the strong bond they both shared? What if...??? Gateau brutally whacked himself on the head, and one word replaced the frets and worries, which were multiplying like bacteria in his mind...  
  
SHIT.  
  
  
The next morning, Gateau woke up, feeling refreshed and relaxed. He didn't feel like he usually did in the mornings; like he'd been dunked in warm grease, rubbed clean with towels (the rough, nasty kind provided by cheap hotels), and then dragged through the sand on a beach in the middle of winter. Ugh. Not the most beautimous feeling to wake up to.  
  
Stretching and making all of those fuzzy, indistinct morning noises' Gateau shook out his hair to un-paste his bangs from his forehead, and rubbed his eyes until the world came into focus. He glanced lazily over at his alarm clock...  
...and discovered WHY he felt like he'd slept on a cloud in heaven...  
10:04:23 am.  
Oh HELL...  
  
Gateau threw himself out of bed, dread turning his blood to water and his heart to a kettledrum. He was already two hours, four minutes, and twenty-three seconds late. The Megabitch would be roaring at him until the cows came home (to be made into burgers for Happy Meals, of course). How could he have slept through the alarm?  
  
Gateau froze in his purple plaid boxers, standing on one foot, in the middle of yanking his black uniform slacks on, when he realized he hadn't even set his alarm. Then he remembered...  
  
After sufficiently walloping himself on the head for being so stoopid, Gateau flung the nasty, icky cotton pants aside, and pulled out his good old comfy Levis. Baggy, black, well-worn to soft perfection with a few funny little rips in the side and frayed edges that added character' to the jeans. Denim was his friend. He selected a pink and purple tye-dyed tank and put that on as well. Somewhat suitably dressed, Gateau left for the kitchen to rustle up some breakfast. Of course, Marron had already left for classes, so Gateau had the entire place to himself.  
  
The only thing in the cabinet was a box of Cheerios that was gods-only-know-how old, and the rather empty fridge was not much help either. To top it off, the coffee had gone stone-cold. Lovely.  
  
Gateau grumbled irritably and pulled a mini-pizza out of the freezer and placed it in the microwave. Gateau then sat himself down on the counter, glaring impatiently at the pizza which looked like it was waltzing around the microwave as the revolving plate upon which it sat turned painfully slowly.   
  
He decided to busy himself by looking around for something to drink while the pizza was being nuked. Gateau confronted the fridge a second time, and decided on a Coke. Upon closing the door, he noticed a new paper, secured to the fridge by a pineapple-shaped magnet, just below the Bed vs. Couch' schedule. The teeny handwriting read;  
  
Gateau,  
Seeing as there was no real reason for you to wake up at the normal hour, I decided to let you sleep late. I hope this is alright. Please devote some of your free time to trying to find a job. I will help you this weekend, and/or when I have a chance to do so. Until then,  
~Marron  
  
P.S. I'm sorry for the selection of food (or lack thereof). I'll pick some things up from the mini mart on the way home.  
  
Gateau half-smiled, shaking his head. A sudden repetitive beeping noise from behind him announced that the pizza was ready. Gateau snatched the baseball mitt-sized edible out of the microwave and ate it in three bites. After gulping down the Coke, Gateau pulled on his jacket and boots and left the apartment to go employment-hopping.   
  
At around two-thirty, Marron returned. He wearily stalked into the empty apartment, first placing a heavy bag containing the promised purchases from the mini mart upon the counter top and then removing his backpack and letting it hit the floor with a loud thump. He was sore all over. The backpack contained four textbooks and three binders, but felt like it held bricks and boulders instead. In addition to carrying this on his back, Marron had carted the grocery bag home in his arms, which had limited strength. Owch. Marron rolled his shoulders to ease away the residual pain, while he went about putting the food away. After carefully placing the box of Marshmallow-Blasted Froot Loops, the bag of pretzel sticks, and the case of Cup Noodles in the cabinet, Marron opened the refrigerator and put the baloney, string cheese, and ice cream sandwiches in their respective drawers or on their respective shelves. Upon closing the door, he noted that there was a new slip of paper held by the pineapple magnet that had previously held his note to Gateau. A series of what looked like chicken scratchings read;  
  
Marron,  
  
We need to talk.   
Come to me.  
  
~Gateau  
  
P.S. I'm on the roof.  
  
Barely one minute later found Marron opening the door at the top of the stairwell marked Roof Access, and puzzling over what Gateau would want to talk to him about. Wait, scratch that... He was full of dread over what Gateau would want to talk to him about. The previous night... Oh gods...   
  
Gateau was sitting, with his back to Marron, near the edge of the roof, staring out over the city. Marron took a deep breath and strode over to where his friend was, stopping beside him, but not sitting down.   
  
I come up here when I'm really confused or mixed up or stressed out, Gateau explained, without looking up, or acknowledging Marron's presence otherwise, Call it my thoughtful spot', if you've ever seen Winnie the Pooh.  
  
It's close to the heavens, Marron said, agreeing, It is a good place to meditate over things.  
  
I don't know what it is... Gateau continued, more to himself than to Marron, But something about being up here, and being able to look down at all of the houses and buildings and cars and stuff makes me feel better. It's almost like I'm up above the world instead of living on its surface and dealing with all of its crap.  
  
Marron let silence fall between them for a second before fear gave way to curiosity.  
  
What was it that you wanted to speak to me about?  
  
Gateau sighed, shaking his head, I don't know... Well, that's not true. I know very well what I want to say, but I don't know how to say it without screwing everything up or offending you or something.  
  
Trying to mask his shyness with a calm, collected voice, Marron asked It's about last night, correct?  
  
  
  
Silence.   
  
I'm sorry...! Both parties chorused at the same time. They then mirrored eachother's confused expressions and concluded the little duet' with a perfectly synchronized, Why are _you_ sorry?  
  
Both men managed a smile and a laugh at this. A top-notch dance teacher couldn't have choreographed a better performance!  
  
  
  
  
  
Oh never mind.  
  
No, say it.  
  
You first.  
  
Why me?  
  
Because I can't think of anything to say, dammit! Gateau said, finally looking up at Marron, with what could have been a frustrated smile.  
  
Marron sucked in a deep, healing breath, before stating more than asking as calmly as he could, You want to know why I kissed you.  
  
Well, yeah! Gateau said, with No duh' smacked all over his face.  
  
Marron frowned in frustration as he felt his face grow hot, but struggled to speak in a civilized manner nevertheless, Right now, I'm not really sure myself, why I did it. But looking back... Marron toyed with a bit of his hair, tripping over his own thoughts that seemed to clamor and riot within his brain, only to meld into a big, ugly blob, chameleonizing with each other. Gateau waited with forced patience as Marron multitasked his nervousness via the tress of hair and the hem of his shirt.  
  
I have... these feelings for you... Marron struggled, hating how forced his speech sounded and how very weak he felt. It was as if his words were barbed wire, painfully forcing their way up his throat like freak caterpillars. Marron swallowed hard and did his best to continue in a comprehensible way, They are deeper than those of friendship... It's like... something from another world is tugging on my heart... or some extra-terrestrial being is drowning my soul in nectar. These feelings are very strange to me, almost exceeding to frightening... I've never really felt anything like this, as far as I can remember... The only thing I can relate to these feelings is how I felt when Danish told me I would never die, so long as I had love... Other than that... I suppose my feelings were so overwhelming that they overruled my common sense last night and I acted on impulse... I realize how stupid I was and I'm sorry, Gateau...  
  
Marron, you have nothing to apologize for, Gateau said, his voice firm with honesty, You said you have feelings for me?  
  
Marron said, But, I don't know them, what they are, what they mean. All I know is that I want to be more to you than I am, and I want to you to be more to me than you are.  
  
Gateau's next words were a huge leap of faith, Could it be... love?  
  
  
  
Gateau felt that word materialize into a harpoon that nanoseconds later shiskabobbed his heart. Very carefully, he asked, Are you... so sure of everything?  
  
It can't be love. It can't possibly! Marron protested in a breaking voice, shaking his head back and forth like a spooked horse.  
  
Why do you say that?  
  
Marron inhaled sharply, shakily, I know it isn't love. I _can't _ love, Gateau. Ever since Danish died, he made off with my soul and murdered it along with himself. When the love of my life died, so did a big part of my self. I don't have the courage to try again... And even if I was brave enough to try... I seriously doubt that I could possibly be able to love while a broken heart beats within my chest.  
  
Gateau said, standing, and looking at Marron with his beautiful lapis lazuli eyes. Blue eyes that were soothing to look into... Like eating chicken soup while in the process of recovering from an illness... Yet Marron did not have the courage to look at Gateau, so he lowered his own eyes and studied the roof (that was really more like a floor from their vantage points, seeing as it was below their feet rather than above their heads as rooves are expected to be), made of plain, grey concrete. Gateau stood, taking a step closer to Marron so that Marron could see the toes of Gateau's boots nearby his own black and silver sneakers as he kept his visual range glued to the concrete.  
  
I think you do have it within you, Gateau said sincerely, You just misplaced it and you need help finding it again.  
  
What are you saying, Gateau?  
  
You may not feel brave enough to love another, but for gods' sakes, don't shut yourself off from love altogether. Maybe if you are reminded of love, you will find what you lost. Maybe it wasn't even missing in the first place... Even if you can't love back... Just... Let someone love you.   
  
Marron felt his breathing grow shallow and labored as Gateau carefully wrapped his arms around him and gently brought the smaller man closer to his body in a warm, comforting embrace. Marron returned the hug, holding tightly to Gateau like a disaster victim would clutch a rescuer.   
  
...And I'm sorry I didn't kiss you back, Gateau added, concluding his speech.  
  
There was long silence, in which Marron's grip upon Gateau went lax and Gateau felt the heartwarming embrace turn cold and empty.  
  
...It's probably for the best... that you didn't... Marron said in a voice that was that of a man on his deathbed. With a gentle, but grief-laiden sigh, he disengaged himself from Gateau, and turned away, crossing his arms over his chest You'd never want to kiss me.   
  
Gateau protested, I mean, I wanted to. I was just surprised, I guess... But I really did want to kiss you.  
  
  
  
Well why the bloody hell not?! Gateau asked, shrugging and gesturing wildly before answering his own question, I've always liked you a lot... Hell, I've had so many fantasies about you, I couldn't count them! Why do you think I always flirted with you and tried to get you to look at me when we were kids? Because I like you, dummy! And do you know why I like you? Because you are beautiful, nice, smart... you're absolutely perfect. What's not to freaking like?!  
  
There is much you don't know, Marron remarked softly, refusing to face Gateau and obviously not at all moved by his grand display of I.C.T (Infatuation Confessions Today), Don't go saying that I am perfect until you know the whole story.  
  
Gateau grinned craftily, So why doncha tell me the whole story so I can prove you wrong?  
  
You wouldn't understand...  
  
Marron, all I know is that we both are feeling something for each other that's making us both all crazy, and let me tell you, from what I can see, if it's not love, then it's pretty damn close. But I _can't_ understand if you refuse to tell me anything. So spill, coz I'm nosy as hell and I go stark raving mad if people pull that I've-got-a-secret-and-I-ain't-gonna-tell-you shit with me.  
  
Gateau's expression softened slightly when he noticed Marron tense up in response to the volume and energy his words projected.  
  
Tell me. Please? Gateau requested in a kinder voice. Marron uncrossed his arms and let them hang at his his sides as he emitted an obliging sigh.  
  
Yes, I'll tell you.  
  
Marron was still, his only movements being those of his hair, rising and falling slowly, gently as the wind played with it. Gateau waited with hushed impatience and time seemed to stand still as he watched Marron, who was doing absolutely nothing interesting enough to watch. Yet Gateau stared... Trying to see within Marron. Gateau could almost see those suppressed secrets bucking, snorting and frothing like wild stallions within Marron's fragile body, threatening to reduce him to delicate shatters unless he loosed them. The seconds crawled by, slowly, painfully, like injured inchworms, and Gateau opened his mouth to call Marron's name, to bring him back to earth. Before he could do this, Marron finally began to speak.   
  
Have you seen the damage on the apartment's doorframe?  
  
Gateau frowned. Sure, he'd been curious about the split wood and ravaged paneling, but... what the hell...?  
  
Nevertheless, he answered, Yeah... What about it?  
  
And the scuff-marks on the floor under the kitchen table? Marron continued, as if he hadn't heard Gateau. On a normal occasion, Gateau would've found this quite annoying, but he was far too curious to care at the moment.  
  
I hadn't noticed those, He said in response to the second half of Marron's question.  
  
Marron nodded once and said, Well, there's a sad story behind all of that.  
  
  
  
Marron paused to take a deep breath as a means of preparing himself for the coming out of his darkest secret of all.  
  
When I heard of Danish's suicide, I felt as though someone had clubbed me on the head and thrust a knife into my heart at the same time. I fell to the floor, I was so stricken with horror. I spent hours lying as though inert on the cold floorboards. I drowned myself in my tears and my grief before coming to a decision of my own. After less than an hour of preparation, I was ready. I had pushed the table aside, not paying any mind to how this action marred the floor, along with one of the chairs. The other I let remain, for it would prove useful for my... purposes... The last thing I did was turn off all of the lights, and place the only picture I had of my lost love upon the table top, surrounding it with at least a dozen lit candles. As I was setting this up, I heard a knocking on my door. It was the apartment manager, Mrs. Hollyndaise. She had been nagging me for months about paying my rent, so it did not surprise me in the least when I heard her outside my door, shouting something about my final eviction notice. She said had the police with her and they would break down the door if I didn't open it first. I didn't pay them any mind. I continued to arrange the candles in a nice pattern around the photograph as the knocking turned to pounding, and the shouted requests became orders and threats. When I was satisfied, I got up onto the chair, looked into Danish's eyes for the last time, and told him I would see him soon. Just as I stepped off the chair, the door was ripped from its hinges and the police were upon me. Needless to say, Mrs. Hollyndaise let out quite a scream when she saw me handcuffed, wriggling like a worm on a hook as I hung from a noose I'd made out of dental floss and duct tape, secured to the lighting fixture overhead. My memories of what happened after that are blurry... I just remember being taken to the police station, charged with attempted suicide. Mrs. Hollyndaise apparently took pity on me because she bailed me out. She said I was lucky I didn't break my neck, and I nodded, even though I secretly disagreed. She promised me she would not tell a soul about what happened as long as I stayed quiet as well. Though she's still an irascible rent collector, now she's always asking me how I'm doing. Nice of her, that. And though my life has gone very much uphill since that event, I still have to live with a dark mark upon my soul. I would have followed Danish to ends of the earth and beyond, so I felt that it was the only way. But now, I still can't believe... Every time I think about... what I almost did... The bottom line is... Marron swallowed hard, feeling his voice quivering with grief. He lowered his voice in an attempt to make it stable as he spoke the truth aloud for the first time, ...I tried to kill myself, Gateau.  
  
Silence.  
  
Silence that provided time for the shell-shocking truth to sink in.   
  
Silence again.  
  
Then, more silence, save for footsteps as one approached the other. Marron heard Gateau coming toward him from behind and almost hoped that the older man would take him into his arms again and hold him close, allowing Marron to cry upon his shoulder while stroking his hair and telling him everything would be okay. Marron almost wished for this. Almost... Marron's mind spoke cynical words to him, saying he would just feel afraid and overwhelmed and end up pushing Gateau away. Marron knew all too well how true this prophecy probably was. That stung. Marron suddenly hated himself for being such a coward. He couldn't remember ever feeling so weak and useless...  
  
But Gateau did not even touch his distraught companion. Instead, he went around to face Marron from the front. Gateau took a deep breath before revealing to Marron the dirty little secret of why he always wore lots of wrist cuffs or long sleeves...  
Gateau took off his leather jacket and held out his arm for Marron to see. The younger man squinted, then inhaled sharply upon seeing a series of thin, white scars decorating Gateau's wrist and muscular forearm.  
  
Marron remained silent. Gateau couldn't even hear him breathing. Marron mutely took Gateau's wrist gently in his hand and appraised the scars, golden eyes dark with concentration. He watched in silence as Marron carefully traced what remained of the bloody handiwork with the tip of his index finger. Gateau fought the urge to shudder. He felt very vulnerable baring his own dark secret, but after what Marron had revealed to him, Gateau felt he owed him something in return.  
  
After Marron had gone over each of the eleven scars, he sank into a kneel, never letting go of Gateau's arm. He tugged gently in a silent plea for Gateau to follow his example. The older man obliged, sitting next to Marron, who sat himself down more comfortably before extending a leg and pulling up his bondage pants, exposing his calf. He then shifted his position slightly so that the underside of his leg was turned upward. Marron glanced from Gateau to his leg in a gesture for him to take a look. Gateau leaned closer and had to look carefully to see seven thin, pale scars disrupting the smooth, tender skin just below the underside of Marron's knee.   
  
Gateau blinked twice to make sure he was not seeing things. His hand rose on its own volition, reaching toward Marron's leg, as if intending to touch the scars with glowing, healing fingertips that would somehow magic away' those glyphs of depression...  
  
Gateau stopped himself, not wanting to push it, and turned his attention back upon Marron, who was staring at him with an unreadable dimness hovering in his eyes.  
  
Gateau said, in a sad, distant voice, if you feel so horrible that you would hurt yourself, kill yourself... if you felt that you were incapable of loving... Why did you kiss me?   
  
Marron closed his eyes, as if deep in meditation and began quietly, My attempted suicide is not the end of my story... There's more to it than my wanting to... go away. I felt wretched and sleepless that night, so I spent it ghosting around my apartment, pondering my existence. It was as if Mrs. Hollyndaise and those cops had not shown up at all, as if I'd succeeded in doing away with myself. I kept seeing my body, still hanging from my home-made noose, while I stood aside, as a specter. I felt cold and alone. I felt... dead. Or maybe, I should say I felt un-dead; like I was a lifeless being, magnetized to the face of the earth, damned to wander amongst the living for eternity. When I happened to traipse into the bathroom, I had a revelation. I realized that I was not a creature, so lonely and black-hearted like a vampire or a ghost. Such beings have no reflection. But I did. Though the man in the mirror was sad-eyed, flawed, and cowardly, he was still me. A thought struck me that changed my perspective instantly, I am human. Though most of them had left my life, seemingly for good, there still were people who cared whether I ate or starved, lived or died. First I thought of Tira, though only briefly, followed closely by Mille, but what moved me the most was the thought of you. Back when we were troubled teenagers, was it not Gateau Mocha who always stood by my side through thick and thin? Was Gateau ever not the first to come to my aid when disaster struck? Wasn't it Gateau who was forever possessing feelings for me? Either way, your memory brought me up from the ashes, and knowing that you had always and would always care for me... You have always been so good to me, and I want to love you with all my heart... but love... is something my heart will no longer allow me to do.  
  
Gateau listened, mesmerized, never letting his eyes leave Marron's face. He noticed how Marron stared intently at the ground, which he pressed his palms to, every muscle in his slender frame tensed. Gateau almost thought that Marron was enraged, until the sudden droop of his shoulders and shuddering breath betrayed a sob. When Marron blinked, Gateau noted the single silver tear that channeled down his face, taking some of his eyeliner with it, and leaving a shining trail upon the porcelain-pale skin. Gateau extended his hand, tenderly cupping the side of Marron's face, using his free hand to stroke the moisture from his cheek. Marron placed his hand over Gateau's, holding the larger hand to his face and sighing wearily. Gateau took this opportunity his bring face close to that of his smaller counterpart, planting a series of gentle kisses upon Marron's forehead. Soothed by the touch of Gateau's hands and lips, Marron fell against his companion, who momentarily lifted the younger man into his lap and put his arms around him. Marron pressed his face to the hollow of Gateau's throat, breathing softly, deeply against the other's skin.   
  
Gateau held Marron close to him, almost hoping that the smaller man would cry, fully and heavily upon him. Marron had always kept everything bottled up. One could only imagine the emotional frenzy attacking his heart, day after day. Marron deserved to cry every once in a while, Gateau thought. But that single tear was the first and the last one Marron shed. Nevertheless, Gateau held him and spoke in a voice soft with affection,  
  
If you can't give your own love, then I will give mine to you. I will love you, Marron.  
  
Marron whimpered in futile protest, though he made no attempt to free himself from the embrace.   
  
Gateau countered feather-gently, smiling to himself and laying his head upon Marron's, as he said in a dulcet whisper, I love you.   
  
Gateau continued to hold Marron, inhaling the sweet, lilac-y scent of the wild, blue-black hair, and strong, calloused fingertips gently massaged his back and shoulders. Gateau couldn't help but marvel as he began to notice just how very small Marron was... Or was Gateau just big? The first was slender, agile, and nearly a foot shorter than his counterpart, who was brawny, hulking, and almost seven feet tall. One advantage did come of this contrast; because of Marron's petiteness, or because of Gateau's bigness, depending on how you want to look at it, Marron fit perfectly into Gateau's lap, without providing any discomfort at all for either of them. Gateau was the sturdy' type who was good for leaning on, and Marron was the delicate' type that you knew you had to handle with extreme care, but you still ached to be able to hold... Gateau crossed his legs so that he could hold Marron more comfortably. As he did this, he was very pleasantly surprised when Marron actually cuddled up to him, nestling against his broad chest. Cradling Marron like a small girl would cradle a doll, Gateau remembered a certain debt he'd been wanting to repay. He carefully shifted Marron in his lap so that he could speak to him face to face. Staring into the honeyed velvet of Marron's eyes, Gateau smiled and spoke.  
  
I wanna kiss you. Can I kiss you, Marron?  
  
Marron's gaze darted away from Gateau, and his brow furrowed.   
  
I... don't know... He said timidly. Gateau looked at him quizzically.  
  
I've never done it... the correct' way... Marron explained, a little embarrassed.  
  
Gateau struggled to hold back a laugh, Not even with Danish?  
  
Marron shook his head slowly, We never went beyond lip-kissing. Danish said that the idea of tonguing someone wierded him out'. And I was always too... shy.   
  
Gateau nodded, a little disappointed, but not about to show it, That's okay, Marron.  
  
No! I didn't mean it that way! I mean, I'd like to kiss you, but... Marron sighed, ...I don't know how.  
  
A small smile that was half amused, half sympathetic played over Gateau's lips, and he looked fondly at Marron, adoring his innocence and angelic purity.  
  
It's easy. I'll show you.  
  
Gateau stood, then offered his hand to Marron and helped him up.  
  
Gateau began, feeling a little awkward. Having to teach someone how to kiss... He could no sooner explain color to a blind man, yet he saw no reason not to try.  
  
Tilt your head a bit.  
  
Like this? Marron asked, cocking his head slightly to the left.  
  
Gateau said, nodding. Still unsure of himself, he stepped a bit closer to Marron, Now... um... put your arms around me.  
  
  
  
It's up to you, Gateau answered, shrugging, but the most common way I've seen people do it is she'll put one hand on his shoulder, and she'll touch his neck with the other.  
  
Marron cocked his eyebrow,   
  
Gateau rolled his eyes, You know what I mean.  
  
Marron nodded and decided to go with Gateau's shoulder-and-neck suggestion. Once this was done, Gateau placed one hand on Marron's hip, and the other found the side of his jaw. He felt Marron shudder slightly at being touched, but fortunately, he recovered quickly.   
  
Gateau said, taking time for a deep breath, then continuing, Now open your mouth a little and bring your tongue forward slightly... like you're tasting something very sweet.  
  
Before doing this, Marron voiced the question in the back of his mind, Can I close my eyes?  
  
Gateau laughed slightly at this question. Cute.  
  
Of course.  
  
Marron's eyes regarded Gateau for a moment before closing. Marron then followed Gateau's directions and waited. Gateau leaned forward, close of enough to close the distance between them. He paused for a moment, to give the final instructions.  
  
Try to relax.  
  
That said, Gateau slowly, carefully covered Marron's lips with his own. Gateau felt Marron tense in either fear or shock or both. The older man paused in his pursuits and attempted to calm his partner by caressing the side of Marron's neck, easing his tension with slow, delicate touches and strokes to his fair, sensitive skin. Marron felt ready to rocket past the stars and melt into a fluffy pink puddle at the same time. While it was a shock at first, the sudden moist warmth upon his lips slowly won his favor. It made him feel encompassed by a pleasant, mild heat, like he was just emerging from a warm shower. It made his mind moan and beg for more, so he massaged the back of Gateau's neck in a silent plea to continue.  
  
Gateau obliged, moving his lips over Marron's. Slowly, sensuously, sweetly...  
  
Then, there was a new, slight pressure to Marron's lips, and amazingly, the smaller of the two actually responded by bringing Gateau closer, pulling him flush with his body. A delicious shudder wracked Marron's slender frame as he pressed himself to Gateau. The closeness was maddening. The heat was so intense, Marron felt he might erupt, and yet he wanted more. As Gateau was exploring the warm, sweet cavern of Marron's mouth, he was surprised when his partner shyly rose to meet him. It took every ounce of Gateau's resolution to hold himself back. He could tell Marron was silently saying , More, more, more... but Gateau had to be gentle this time, seeing as it was Marron's first real kiss, and Marron was easily frightened by new things. Besides, Gateau had already gotten more than he could've ever hoped for. Marron was kissing him back, fully and passionately. There would, hopefully, be more opportunities in the future for teaching Marron the finer points of the art of smooching, but for now...   
  
Gateau's hand found purchase in Marron's hair, gently tugging as he kissed him, playing a little game of cat and mouse with the virgin's tongue. Marron felt a quiet moan rise from deep within his throat. As Gateau continued his gentle, but feverishly passionate contributions, Marron's worries began to flee like frightened ducks across the smooth, glassy surface of a pond; No more exams, no more name-calling, no more painful memories, no more cutting, no more depression, no more pills, no more trips to the bar, no more unrequited love...  
  
Wait a minute, wait just one polyp-picking minute!  
  
Marron brusquely severed the intimate connections between himself and Gateau as that thought struck him. Unrequited love? Was that what he had been feeling? Though unrequited, it was still...  
  
  
  
Marron was snapped back to reality as Gateau softly, carefully called his name. The older man was staring at him with his gentle, disarmingly blue eyes, which were filled with fear, and maybe even a little hurt. Marron then fully realized for the first time that he'd pushed Gateau away, even though he'd promised himself he wouldn't. What if Gateau thought he'd done something wrong? No... He couldn't let that happen. As this resolution marched determinedly through Marron's mind, he felt a new realization wash over him, like a cool, refreshing breeze...  
  
I don't think I'm scared anymore.  
  
Gateau just held his breath and stared as Marron lifted a hand and ran it gently over his companion's face, as though memorizing every detail with the soft tips of his fingers. Marron paused as his fingers came to a delicate rest upon Gateau's lips. Then the younger man smiled slightly.  
  
he confirmed, more to himself than to Gateau, I'm not scared.  
  
Then, Marron turned his gaze to Gateau's eyes, looking deeply into the glittering, cerulean depths.  
  
What now?  
  
Ooooh, perversions loomed all around those two words, like little demons, exposing their tiny curved fangs in wicked, toothy smiles. Gateau couldn't help but grin as well. So many answers to such a teeny weeny question, heh heh heh...  
  
We could go back to the apartment and settle down on the bed where I could proceed to make deliberate, passionate love to you.   
  
Marron's eyebrow quirked and his eyes went wide. Gateau almost feared that he had not been able to take a joke, until Marron smiled and shook his head.  
  
Totally incorrigible.  
  
Gateau felt fierce joy well up within him. He hugged Marron tightly to him, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He wanted to attack Marron's lips again, but he knew that that would be seriously pushing it. He had no doubt that sucking face once a day was more than enough for Virgin-boy, thank you very much.  
  
Nevertheless, Gateau smiled affectionately down at his smaller partner and asked, Well, what do _you_ want to do?   
  
Marron shrugged, Up until the part about making deliberate, passionate love to me, what you just said actually sounded fine.  
  
Gateau's eyebrows raised,   
  
Marron nodded, then lead the way down to the apartment with a dumbstruck Gateau practically floating after him.  
  
Lights out found the two in their pj's, climbing into the bed, facing a little difficulty in doing so. It wasn't easy for two men to fit both of themselves onto a twin-sized mattress. Somehow, they managed. Marron pressed his smaller body against Gateau, who instinctively laced his arms around his companion. Even as Marron was snuggling closer to him, a reminder etched brilliantly across Gateau's mind, disrupting the mist of peace and pleasure...  
  
Aw shit. Zoloft...  
  
Not wanting a rerun of what had happened the last time Marron had neglected his medication, Gateau lifted one of his arms from Marron's waist and carefully slid the other out from underneath him. He heaved himself off the bed and hurried over to the bathroom, feeling Marron's puzzled gaze upon his back. He returned momentarily with two glasses of water and set them on the bedside table, then promptly retrieved the two containers that he'd placed in his pocket. He handed one to Marron, who opened it and smoothly downed a pill, washing it down with some water. Gateau, ever the graceless, was having a bit more trouble, courtesy of the damnable childproof cap. Noticing his struggles, Marron placed a hand on Gateau's wrist to cease his frustrated efforts, then took the plastic container from him and twisted the cap off for him with his smaller, tapered fingers. Gateau nodded gratefully, and accepted the capsule Marron handed him. After Gateau took his pill, bringing their little Zoloft Party to an end, Marron laid back down on his side, and Gateau replaced his arms around him. Marron edged closer, fitting himself against the curve of Gateau's body, and Gateau's lips gently brushed the back of his neck. Giving into temptation (which was usually a very dangerous thing to do), Gateau draped one of his legs possessively around both of Marron's, feeling the younger man's chest rise and fall as he exhaled in a contented way.   
  
That night, Gateau fell asleep wondering why he'd even bothered with the damned Zoloft at all.


	4. Angel, You Angel

**~PART THREE~**  
Angel, You Angel  


  
_Here is where time is on our side,  
Take you there... Take you there..._  
-Talking Heads  
  
  
Seeing as he and Marron had finally come to terms with their feelings for each other, Gateau found himself wanting to spend lots and lots of time with his cute little roomie. However, the end of the academic year was drawing near, which meant final exams, which meant round-the-clock studying, which meant no fun at all. Fortunately, they were able to compromise. Gateau could bond' with Marron as long as it didn't interfere with his studies. Each evening found Marron at the kitchen table, reading and writing like there was no tomorrow, and Gateau sitting on the floor beside the chair, resting his head against Marron's thigh. Gateau remained at Marron's side, silent and true, like a faithful dog. Occasionally, Marron would even reach down to pet Gateau's tiger-striped hair. Although Gateau felt as though he shouldn't settle for so little when it came to loving interaction, he could deal with it. The exams weren't far away, and after Marron graduated, they would have plenty of time to spend together. Besides, just being near Marron was enough to make Gateau's heart flutter. For the time being, playing man's best friend' would do.  
  
On the Monday after the week devoted to final exams, Gateau threw open the apartment door, and paused in the doorframe long enough to pose and say, Oh YEAH!  
  
A very surprised Marron's head snapped up. He was sitting on the couch, casually flipping through a magazine when Gateau had so rambunctiously burst in. Over his surprise mere nanoseconds after Gateau had made his flamboyant entrance, Marron spoke.  
  
My, aren't we happy this afternoon, he stated mildly.   
  
Why yes, Gateau agreed, striding into the apartment, concealing something behind his back and shutting the door in a gleeful slam behind him, We are. Aaaand I got sumthin' for you...  
  
Marron sighed, his smile fading only a little bit, Gateau didn't we agree that neither one of us would do any frivolous spending' until you found a job?  
  
RELAX, Marron, I happened to pass a yard sale on the way home. A. YARD. SALE. Gateau stressed, It was only fifty cents and I couldn't resist... Close your eyes.  
  
Marron obeyed, and felt Gateau plunk something on his head. When he opened his eyes and went to take his present off to have a look at it, Gateau stopped him, and ran and got the makeup mirror from the bedside table. Marron accepted the mirror, and looked into it, seeing himself wearing a black Mickey-Ears cap. Marron laughed. He had to admit, it didn't look half bad perched atop his fluffy, blue hair.  
  
Gateau muttered, shaking his head, and causing Marron to look up, You have no clue how cute you are.  
  
Marron smiled, placing the mirror on the coffee table, Thank you, Gateau, he said.  
  
And about the whole frivolous spending crap, Gateau added, smiling even more broadly, Well, take a gander at this, whydoncha? he said, brandishing an employment contract in front of Marron's face. A smile played over Marron's features as he looked from the paper to Gateau.  
  
You got a job.  
  
Yep, I did! Nationwide Movers! Twelve-fifty an hour! Over twice what I was makin' at Mac-Bastard-Donald's! Gateau announced, grinning boldly and beaming with pride, Oh yeah, look at me an' mah bad self! Uh-huh! Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh!  
  
Marron smiled, shaking his head as Gateau paraded around the apartment egyptian-style. When hyperactivity finally gave way to exhaustion, Gateau settled down next to Marron on the couch. Just as he was about to wrap an arm around Marron and get down to some much-needed cuddling, the younger man leaned away from him and pulled his backpack out from under the couch. From this, he retrieved a brown envelope, which he handed to Gateau. Puzzled, Gateau carefully opened the envelope under Marron's scrutiny. He fished a piece of blue paper out of it.  
  
Underneath what was obviously the college's logo were words that Gateau read aloud, slowly and carefully, like a grade-school student reading from a textbook at the teacher's behest;  
  
_Marron Glace: Final exam results_:   
Calculus; 96.5; **A**  
Latin; 98; **A**  
Biology; 95.5; **A**   
European Literature; 97; **A  
**Music Theory; 99.5; **A**  
  
Dear Mr. Glace,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have passed all of your courses and have achieved excellent marks in each. You will graduate with a 4.0 average and a Bachelor's Degree. We congratulate you, and encourage that you stay and continue your studies here, for a promising student such as yourself is more than capable of achieving a Master's Degree. Excellent work and congratulations, Marron.  
  
Gateau looked up from the paper to Marron, who shrugged (and was still wearing his hat), unable to suppress a smile. From the next second on, the evening was hopelessly and joyfully lost in hugs.  
  
  
Less than a month later, Gateau was striding across the college campus, along with mothers, fathers, uncles, aunts, grandparents, brothers, sisters, friends and others attending the graduation ceremony. Blue-cloaked individuals with the traditional flatboard-and-tassle-topped hats mingled with the guests, or searched for seats in the ampitheatre, yapping and chattering happily away. Gateau spotted Marron, standing apart from the crowd, leaning against the side of a building. Marron too sported a billowing blue garment along with the matching headgear, which was perched at a slight angle on his head, overshadowing his hair, which had been re-dyed, this time, red. Since his hair was already very dark, and bleached only slightly, the coloring served as a mere accent, turning Marron's hair a dark, burgundy color and making the fluffy, uneven crop look like shaggy velvet. There had been a little dye left in the jar, and this was used to reapply Gateau's stripes, which stood out, bright red against his natural honey-blond hair color.  
  
Marron noticed Gateau approaching him and ceased his leaning. He opened his arms and accepted the offered hug from Gateau, with the addition of an affectionate peck on the lips.  
  
I finally made it. Marron said, scarcely able to believe.  
  
Of course you did, Gateau agreed, smiling, I always knew you would. You're one smart cookie, Marron.   
  
Marron laid his head on Gateau's chest, hugging him more tightly.  
  
Thank you.  
  
For what?  
  
Marron answered simply, For bringing me back from the dead and being my guardian angel.  
  
You're welcome, Gateau responded, smiling and gently rubbing Marron's back, Anything for the one I love.  
  
Marron lifted his head, looking fondly up at Gateau, who noted how the dark red hair color set off Marron's golden-yellow eyes. For a moment, the campus and crowd melted around them, leaving Gateau and Marron in a dulcet, velvet world that they had all to themselves, along with all the time in the world to be spent simply gazing into eachother's eyes...  
  
Uh, Gateau?  
  
The world snapped back into focus and Gateau blinked from the impact'.  
  
Yeah, Marron?  
  
You might want to find a seat.  
  
Gateau said wisely, reluctantly releasing Marron,   
  
He flashed Marron a smile and a thumbs-up before turning toward the ampitheatre in search of an unoccupied chair.  
  
After the playing of _Pomp and Circumstance_ over several loudspeakers, along with the filing of the graduates into the crowd, twenty three speeches later found Marron shyly striding up to the podium. He retrieved a folded paper from somewhere within his robe, placed it upon the podium, then found his glasses, which he unfolded and placed upon his face. He cautiously tapped the microphone, which whined a little, causing him to flinch and Gateau to chuckle. With his golden eyes suddenly made bigger, via his glasses, seeing him tilt his eyebrows and wince whilst wearing the wire-framed lenses merited a little silent aaaaaw'... And even though the slender man was mostly hidden behind the podium, Gateau could tell his knees were buckling within that baggy robe. Marron cleared his throat, before speaking, and said into the microphone, Um, hello everyone, fellow students, respected professors...  
  
It was kind of surprising to hear Marron's deep, gentle voice at such magnification, since he was so softspoken. It was even a little unsettling. His voice was not supposed to be that loud. It just didn't sound right. Nevertheless, Gateau maintained his focus, and listened intently to Marron's speech.   
  
Today, I want to speak to you about essence, and of potential, and I hope you will find way I say meaningful. I also hope you'll forgive my manner of speech, because I'm used to addressing stern, commanding teachers.  
  
Some scattered laughter from the audience, mostly from the fellow students.  
  
If I were to say, I have learned a lot over the past four years', I would be making a grave understatement. There can be no doubt that my intellect was exponentially expanded, thanks to my classes and my professors. But not all of my learning came courtesy of textbooks and teachers. It was never that simple. I learned from my fellow students how to be strong and believe myself. I learned how to not be afraid of the outside world. This knowledge came at a price that was hardly monetary, and never easy. I've heard it said, When you live in a cookie cutter world, being different is a sin.' and though I endured many, if not all, of the possible negative aspects of living amongst others different than I, such experience was what gave me the courage I have today.  
  
Gateau couldn't help but notice a few guys who looked like jocks shifting guiltily in their seats, and was reminded of that night at the diner. Marron had said, It happens all the time. Now he understood what Marron must have been going through during his time at school...  
  
Through the dark times, Marron continued, I told myself to keep living by I wish'. As long as I hoped to be more than I was, the sky would be the limit, and I could become a stronger, better person. Old man Disney taught us, When you wish upon a star, it makes no difference _who_ you are. Stars cannot see, and they certainly cannot judge. They can only grant wishes. But, contrary to what most people will say, you cannot make it in the world by simply believing in yourself and wishing to be more. I have many people to thank for helping me to become who I am today. I would like to extend my thanks to absent friends, for never letting me down...  
  
Gateau's thoughts immediately turned to Tira, who, despite what her husband had done and told her, had faithfully sent letters to Marron during those insufferable times...  
  
...and to those here, I say thank you. To my professors, who taught me to work hard, rise up, and be great. To my classmates, from whom I learned the hard way how to be proud of myself for who I truly was. To the members of my band, and yes I will say the name here and now, Horny Unicornie, for providing the food of my soul, which we like to call music. To all of the aforementioned, I send my thanks. But my deepest heartfelt gratitude goes to two individuals; One whose seat is far above us, whom I hope is watching me right now with angel's eyes, forgiving me my trespasses, and praising my efforts. I live for this individual's memory and treasure it forever. My heart realized its potential, thanks to said person. The memories and gifts left for me, during the time we spent on the same plane of existence will be cherished in my heart forever. The second recipient of my most sincere thanks is, by the grace of the gods, among us now, and will hold a special place in my favor for ever. One who taught me how to live... and love... once more, one who was steadfast at my side, even as the entire world turned against me... and brought me up, like a phoenix from the ashes... and became... so dear to my heart...  
  
Marron had to pause, blinking away tears, and taking a deep, shuddering breath. Gateau, too, found himself wet in the eyes, though he, unlike Marron, also happened to be grinning like some sort of funny-farm patient. Gateau knew that Marron was referring to him, and the joy within his heart was so fierce, he was afraid it would burst. He felt so obscenely sugary, at any other time, he would've been disgusted with himself. But this was not the time and place to get abrasive with his emotions, so Gateau let the tears come, only to be wiped away by a hanky. Marron, unfortunately, was not as prepared as Gateau, and had to conclude his speech hanky-less.  
  
...one a final note, I leave you with these words... You are who you choose to be... though sometimes there is no fork in the road of destiny... So follow your path, and partake of the stores of enchanted nectar that you find along the way. Go forth... and make your life... magical...  
  
Gateau's world promptly exploded with saccharine. Sniffling like a hulking, muscle-bound baby, Gateau clapped hard, trying to make the volume of his applause dominate that of the entire audience. Marron tearfully accepted his diploma, shaking hands with several upstanding individuals and performed the traditional switching of the tassel in a daze before rejoining the crowd.   
  
The second the ceremony ended, Gateau leapt up from his chair (consequently knocking it over), and ran to Marron, who, in turn, was also racing toward Gateau, his robes billowing all over the place. He leapt into Gateau's arms, and Gateau swept the smaller man off his feet in a rather twirly bear hug.  
  
That was really beautiful, Marron. Gateau commented, after setting Marron safely back on his feet.  
  
Marron asked meekly, still holding onto Gateau.  
  
  
  
It was the truth. No more, no less.  
  
Aaaaw... Now yer getting me all sappy and crap, Gateau said, as though he was complaining, which of course, he was not.  
  
You don't have a lot of room to talk, Marron said, trying to wipe a tear out of the corner of his eye without smearing his make-up (dark brown smoke-eye' style shadow along with the usual black liner today), I was the one who was crying all through my speech.  
  
So was I, Gateau said truthfully, Quit doing that! You'll miff up your eye shadow. Here, let me... Gateau retrieved the hanky from his pocket, and removed the wire-framed glasses before carefully dabbing at the corners of Marron's eyes.  
  
There. All better.  
  
Thank you, Marron said, folding his glasses and putting them away, somewhere within his robe.   
  
Oi, Marron!   
  
Marron turned just in time to be victimized by a robed, female hugger. After recovering from his shock, he hugged her back, then they released each other. She was a cute little brunette with a bowl cut, bright green eyes, and adorable freckles.   
  
Congrats to you, Marron! she positively chirped, I hear you got all A's  
  
Well, yes, I did... Marron said, lowering his eyes in modesty, And congratulations to yourself, Mozzie.  
  
  
  
Oh, Gateau, I'd like you to meet Mozerella, Marron said, once again taking his place by Gateau's side, and providing a proper introduction, Though she insists upon being called Mozzie', and was of some assistance to me in biology class.  
  
Didn't know how one went about wearing an apron, Mozerella explained, cracking up.  
  
Marron said sharply, eager to change the subject, Mozzie, this is Gateau... Marron hesitated for a only a split second before adding, My boyfriend.  
  
This came as a pleasant surprise to Gateau, who had never thought he'd hear Marron say that out loud. Gateau and Marron were both a little surprised when Mozerella didn't even bat an eyelash, and smiled saying, Nice to meet you, Gateau.  
  
And you. Gateau agreed. Perhaps Mozerella had some sort of gay-dar' and had known about Marron's preferences from the start, but was one of those rare and wonderful people who saw love as love, no matter whom you loved. People like that were cool.  
  
So, Marron, are you gonna come back after summer and get a Master's? Mozzie asked perkily.  
  
No, I don't think so. Marron answered, shaking his head.  
  
the girl lamented, her bottom lip pooching out, I'll miss you... So if you're not coming back here, where are you gonna go?  
  
Summer school.  
  
  
  
Both Gateau's and Mozerella's jaws fell.  
  
But you're so smart! Gateau said in protest, What do you have left to learn?  
  
Marron laughed, I'm not going to learn, Gateau, I'm going to teach. I'd love to be a summer school teacher, or I'd like to teach elementary Special Education. The idea of helping children with special needs has always appealed to me.  
  
Really, Marron? I never knew that!  
  
Just a little dream I had, Marron replied, shrugging.  
  
It's a wonderful dream, Mozzie said, smiling, I know you'll be great at it.  
  
  
  
Oh, there you are, Biscotti! Mozerella called to a young man who approached her, taking her into his arms and giving her a quick kiss. Boyfriend and girlfriend, apparently.  
  
Let's get going, alright? the guy called Biscotti suggested, putting an arm around her shoulders and turning away. Just before he did so, he looked over at Marron and said quietly, disdainfully, Nice speech, Closet Queen.  
  
Then, he did turn his back to an only mildly offended Marron and led the his cute, cool, open-minded, compassionate, humane girlfriend away.  
  
As soon as the jerk turned around completely and started to walk away, Marron actually flicked him off and muttered, Bite me. Gateau doubled over, absolutely jackmonkey with laughter.  
  
  
When the time finally came to go home, Gateau led Marron around to the parking lot where he'd left his motorcycle, half-expecting Marron to start up with the whole big I'd-really-rather-walk crap. He'd gotten that rant from Marron gods-only-knew-how-many times. Gateau had always been concerned with Marron walking to college with that huge backpack, and had often offered to give him a ride nearly every other day. Marron always declined, saying that it was only twelve blocks and that walking was good exercise. When Gateau had inquired as to why Marron didn't just stay at college (seeing as he had dorm accomadations and everything) rather than walking from and to the apartment every day, Marron had responded by laying his head upon Gateau's shoulder and saying simply, because now I have a reason to stay here. Gateau was a sucker for these kind of compliments, so he left it at that.  
  
Much to Gateau's surprise, Marron merely smiled upon seeing the motorcycle, and didn't say a word when Gateau lifted him up and placed him on the seat. Then they rode off to the apartment to play catch-up on on a lot of lost quality time'.  
  
  
No, no, not that one!  
  
Marron, chill. I know what I'm doing.  
  
Gateau, look how it's leaning, Marron protested, pointing to a corner of the tower of wooden blocks, You've already got a space over here fixing to bring about the fall of the entire thing. Take that block.  
  
Marron, I'm not gonna say it again...  
  
It was a beeeeyoootiful Sunday afternoon, about a week after Marron's graduation, and he and Gateau were spending it playing Jenga at the the kitchen table. Gateau had picked up the game at a yard sale, (from the same people he'd gotten Marron's Mickey hat from, in fact), and it soon became a favorite pastime for the two. Though Marron and Gateau would never admit it, they often got a bit too... enthusiastic' with the silly little game, even to the extent of turning it into a serious gamble...  
  
By some extraordinary miracle, when Gateau slid the block he'd insisted on moving from the bottom and placed it on the top, the tower wobbled a bit, but did not fall over.   
  
Marron shook his Mickey-Ears-topped head in disbelief, staring. He'd taken to wearing the cap whenever he was in the apartment, and when it was not on his head, it was placed upon a pillow on the couch. Marron never wore it to work, naturally. He'd applied for a job as a Special Ed teacher at a local school, and had of course, been accepted. But seeing as school did not start until September, Marron got a part-time job at the nearby Barnes and Noble bookstore, working five days a week. Either way, he had twelve glorious weekends to spend with Gateau before he had to start on his real job'...  
  
Your turn, Gateau said cheerfully, leaning back in his chair. Marron winced. Gateau hadn't left him with a lot of options, and none of them were easy. After finally making a decision, Marron very cautiously leaned over the table, toward the tower, and started to gingerly remove a block. He didn't get very far. No sooner had he touched the block, the entire tower swayed lazily before it came crashing down.   
  
I guess... dinner... is on you tonight! Gateau sputtered between guffaws. Marron hadn't moved. He was still looming over the kitchen table top (now covered with freshly fallen blocks), his face a frozen mask of pained concentration, his fingers locked upon the block he'd tried to move...  
  
  
That night (having lost fair and square at Jenga), Marron treated Gateau to dinner at the Parthenon Restaurant. It wasn't anything terribly fancy, but it wasn't some craptacular fast food place like Mickey-D's, so they wore a somewhat reasonable assortment of clothing (Gateau had his nicer pair of black jeans and a new v-neck blue tank along with the usual black leather jacket and boots, while Marron wore some baggy black slacks, red sneakers, a white button-up shirt and black suspenders). While it wasn't an elite, uppity place, the food was damn good and Gateau ended up eating so much, Marron had to beg him stop before he went broke. Of course, Marron didn't eat much himself (a glass of water, a light salad and some grilled chicken), but a fourth helping of Augustus's Braised Lamb Maximus was a bit much, even for Gateau, even if the gravy was mindblowingly good.  
  
Two salads, two glasses of water, some strips of grilled chicken and three dishes of braised lamb later found the two happily spending some quiet, quality time together at a local park. It was a crappy place for a date, what with the immense amount of litter and leftover picnic crap strewn about, but at night, there was no place more peaceful or beautiful. The park was nestled next to a small lake, and the moonlight was misty and pearly upon its glassy surface. Fireflies were in abundance, floating in drunken clusters in the warm night air, and the purring of crickets was pleasant, soft enough not to drive one crazy. A path ran alongside the lake, and was perfect for a nighttime stroll. The temperature was mild, the humidity low, the moon and stars smiling in their otherworldly silver ways against a blue-velvet sky. Though it was indeed an ideal setting for a walk, Gateau and Marron fancied themselves with sprawling out upon a grassy hillside, gazing up at the night sky.  
  
Hey Marron?  
  
  
  
Have you ever wondered what stars really are?  
  
Gateau, you know as well as I do that stars are masses of colored, fluorescent gases held together by gravity.  
  
Gateau rolled his eyes, Aw, c'mon college-boy, for once in your life, think outside of the classroom, and get imaginative. I mean, like when you were a kid, Gateau paused to reconsider this statement, remembering that Marron had always been the scrawny kid with glasses who read textbooks for giggles and always got beaten up by jocks. And Marron had moved up a grade, he was so smart, so Gateau added, like, when you believed people who told you the moon was made of cheese. _Before_ you knew all of that reality crap. What did you think stars were?   
  
Well, I suppose I kind of thought of them as pinholes in the sky, Marron said, after a thoughtful moment, Back before I learned the truth, I think I thought of the night as a big, blue curtain that blocked out the sun. The curtain had tiny holes in it that the light would shine through, hence, the stars.  
  
Gateau heaved a sigh, I am the _only_ one who thought that stars were aliens' television screens?!  
  
Marron managed a small laugh at this. Gateau rolled over on his side, supporting himself with an elbow as he leaned over Marron's lax, slender frame, loving how the moonlight seemed give Marron's pale skin a subtle glow and kissed the tips of his hair with silver. Grinning like a dizzy-with-adoration drunkard, Gateau shook his head,  
  
Gods, you're beautiful, Marron.  
  
The pearly shards of moonlight held captive within Marron's eyes, which were stained sloe by the night, danced playfully.  
  
Then tell me so without words.  
  
Gateau needed no further prompting. He closed the distance between himself and Marron, kissing him deeply, amorously, and glorying in the fact that this time, Marron did not stiffen at the contact. Desperate to satisfy the warm desire spreading through his body, Gateau proceeded to move completely on top of Marron, careful to balance out his weight, putting a good lot of it upon his knees and forearms, so that he did not end up crushing the much smaller, more fragile man beneath him. Marron actually latched onto Gateau, pulling him closer, and triggering the rise of a hot new thrill within the older man's heart.   
  
Gateau's lips left his partner's, only to make a more than welcome return upon Marron's soft neck. As Gateau planted a series of gentle, tender kisses along the lines of his throat and collar bones, Marron whispered in a pleading sigh, Please... don't...stop...  
  
On any other occasion, Gateau wouldn't been more than happy to oblige to this request, but he remembered, he had a mission.  
  
Actually, Marron, there was something I wanted to ask you.  
  
Marron asked, trying not sound disappointed at the absence of Gateau's lips upon his neck.  
  
Yeah... Uh... Gateau began, looking not just a little uneasy, Look, Marron, we've been through a lot together, and unless I'm obscenely mistaken, we both share the same feelings for each other... Anyway, I've been doing some thinking- Which is not something I normally do...  
  
Marron smiled patiently up at Gateau, who took a deep breath and continued, Um... What I mean to say is... Gateau shifted his weight so that he could lift his left hand and gently touch Marron's pale cheek with his fingertips, while gazing into his eyes with a look of utmost affection and tenderness, Marry, will you Marron me?   
  
Marron's eyes went wide. As Gateau paused to reconsider his statement, he realized... Oh hell... Great, what was promising to be a very emotionally uplifting occasion had cheapened into a prime time sitcom. Gods, he had blown it... Shit, damn, crap, and any other four-letter word for that matter!   
  
Gateau sat up hastily, turning his face away in shame, embarrassed beyond belief. He could almost hear the proverbial shoulder angel smirking as he twirled his halo around his index finger and sniggered Oh yeah, nice going, Gateau! You should write a book; _How To Totally Screw Over Your Marriage Proposal In Seven Syllables Or Less_!  
  
Needless to say, Gateau jumped a bit when he felt a hand ghost over his shoulder, and Marron's lips tickle his ear.  
  
I will.  
  
Gateau whirled around, where Marron was staring passively at him.  
  
Y-You will? Gateau stammered, unable to believe.  
  
Marron nodded, If you ask me.  
  
Gods, it was so irritating how that guy could stay so frooping calm! Gateau was shaking like a silly schoolgirl and wouldn't have been in the least bit surprised if he spontaneously combusted on the spot. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to oust the little anxiety demons, who were having a grand old time dancing and prancing around his pounding heart, and smoothed back his hair, finding he lacked the courage to look up at Marron.  
  
So... d'you wanna get married?  
  
Marron sighed, smiling serenely,   
  
  
Well, I must admit... the blue border was a good choice after all, Marron said, about a week later, standing at the counter and appraising the wedding invitations that were hot off the Kinko's press. The cards had ornate baby-blue ribbon-looking designs embossed along the edges, and on the front, in a font that looked like a series of black brushstrokes, they read; You're invited to our wedding. On the inside, in a smaller version of the same font was scripted, Mr. Gateau Mocha and Mr. Marron Glace cordially invite you to bear witness as they join their hands in marriage. along with all of the where, when and formal/casual info that any reasonable invitation would contain.   
  
Told ya, Gateau said, swiping up a card and examining it for himself, Hmmm... that sure is a load of pretty-sounding words... If I'd written these they would've said something like Yo, we're getting married. Be there or be square'.  
  
Which is why _I_ wrote them, Marron said, smiling to himself as he plucked the invitation out of Gateau's grasp and placed it in a big brown envelope with a spartan clasp along with the others I'm the one who used to read the dictionary when I was younger.  
  
Gateau said, shaking his head, Did YOU need a hobby.  
  
What next? Marron asked as the two of them exited Kinko's.  
  
Gateau grinned, You'll see.  
  
Gateau led the way for about five blocks more, until they came upon Adore Jewelry and Diamond Center. It was not big, not small, but lit by a gorgeous crystal chandelier and run by a duo of crazy Iranian brothers who were infamous for their past lives as skilled horse trainers, and their present lives as somewhat scary jewel-mongers. Gateau gave Marron a playful smile and gestured for him to go in first. Marron stood his ground, shaking his head, Gateau, as much as I hate to say this, neither you nor I can afford-  
  
Gateau cut him off with a sharp wave, Relax, Marron. I pawned off most of my earrings, all of my gold chain necklaces and my dad's watch. I got a couple thou'.  
  
Marron's face fell, But that watch... that was an heirloom, Gateau. How many generations did you say-?  
  
Yeah yeah, my, dad, my grandpa, and my great grandpa all had to live with that thing. They were able to take better care of it than I ever would be. It was solid gold. I wasn't too comfortable living in an apartment with an antique solid gold watch. I mean, think about it... If word got out, I can bet you so many burglars would be trying to break into the apartment... Besides, it was ugly and heavy as sin, Gateau grumbled, rolling his eyes. He added, smiling, And now that it's gone, I can get something that means a lot more to me.   
  
Marron still eyed the jewelry store with some skepticism, so Gateau reverted to his super-sensational 100% guaranteed secret weapon. He slowly reached around behind Marron, and gently ran his fingers up his companion's spine... an action that never failed to make Marron melt. Sure enough, the younger man arched his neck, releasing a sigh that was half pleasured, half obliging and said, Alright... Alright...  
  
Nearly an hour later, Gateau and Marron emerged, one somewhat lost for words, the other smiling contentedly. They paused at a bench, sitting down to reexamine what they'd purchased. Marron ended up spending less than one hundred of Gateau's hard-earned dollars. His ring was a silver band with a flat, blood-red ruby set into it. Although Gateau had begged him to choose something nicer, and had deliberately led him to the counter containing gold rings with diamonds costing into the thousands and up the wazoo, Marron still insisted upon the simple, inexpensive silver one. He said it was prettier, and that he didn't like the idea of wearing expensive jewelry anyway. Gateau then finally agreed and bought the ring for him. Problem solved... Or so he thought...   
  
Will dat be it for yeu, gentlemun? B.J. (the elder of the Iranian brothers) asked, a strong accent configuring his speech as Gateau was about to pay for Marron's ring.  
  
An upcoming from Gateau was replaced by No, we are not quite ready, from Marron...  
  
To top it all off, Marron then insisted upon buying a ring for Gateau! One could rest assured that the older man's blue eyes were as wide as saucers. Gateau had just stared, his mouth opening and closing like the jaw of a halibut as he sputtered, Marron! You...! I can't...! I mean...arrrrgh! This is getting ridiculous! If you bitched about getting your uncostly ring just so you could try to get me to get one for myself...! And besides, Marron, I'm not _supposed_ to have an engagement ring. The _husband_ buys the ring for his _fiancee_!  
  
The corner of Marron's mouth twitched slightly and he raised one perfect brow out of pure amusement before stating slowly and carefully (so that Gateau's diminutive brain would be able to process his words) Gateau, in case you have forgotten, I am a man. I am your fiancee, and you are mine. When we get married, I will be your husband as much as you will be mine. Therefore, you are getting an engagement ring whether you like it or not.  
  
Marron's words were firm, but his smile was passive. Gateau paused for a moment, partially out of hesitation, and partially for a chance to glare over Marron's shoulders, at the other customers who were staring. Seeing the threat in his iced-blue eyes, the eavesdroppers wheeled around, hastily returning their attention to their haggling/display case-shopping. Satisfied, Gateau turned back to Marron, and opened his mouth to spout a protest. Alas, the words stuck in his throat. Who could resist those sparkling golden eyes and that soft, fluffy hair? Gateau caved, and picked out a ring for himself that was just like Marron's in appearance and price range, only his had a sapphire instead of a ruby. However, Gateau's surrender did not come without a price. He insisted upon getting their initials engraved on the rings' insides, and gave Marron's hair a good ruffling before leaving Adore Jewelry and Diamond Center.  
  
Outside, Marron slipped his ring off, and contemplatively ran a fingertip over the GM + MG that was engraved on the inside. He smiled to himself, and said, Have you ever noticed that our initials are the same backwards as they are forwards?  
  
They are, aren't they? Gateau said, laughing slightly to himself as he removed his own ring to examine its engraving, Kinda like a mirror.  
  
Perfect opposites, Marron agreed, Just like us.  
  
Yeah, come to think of it, we are kind of negatives of each other aren't we? Gateau remarked, You're pale, I'm tan. Your eyes are gold, mine are blue. You're a dark-haired genius, I'm a dumb blond...  
  
Marron smiled to himself as Gateau counted out these comparisons on his fingers.  
  
Gateau, you're not dumb, Marron said gently.  
  
Okay okay, I'm intellectually deficient' if you wanna get smartsy about it, Dictionary-Boy, Gateau said, his voice bitter and cynical.  
  
Marron countered this by laying his head upon Gateau's shoulder and saying, You're a wonderful person, Gateau... And I love you.  
  
Gateau's arm automatically circled his fiancee's shoulders and he rested his head upon Marron's.  
  
I love you too, Marron, Gateau said, shunning the shame he usually felt whenever he got sappy'.   
  
And I'll tell you something more.  
  
  
  
Back in college, during my science courses, I found, more often than not, that opposites attract.  
  
It's a sign...! Gateau gasped, gesturing grandly and presenting his prophet impersonation very well indeed, It's an omen! It's a burning bush!  
  
Marron laughed quietly, leaning against Gateau, who pulled him closer and softly kissed his soul mate on the forehead.  
  
Ten minutes later found Gateau and Marron leaving the post office, with a full sheet of stamps and a ream of envelopes. Having a seat on the curb next to the big blue mailboxes, Gateau folded the invitations and placed them in the envelopes, while Marron took care of the happy stamp-sticking duty.  
  
How can you stand the taste of that glue? Gateau inquired, making a face, Don't you think it's nasty?  
  
I don't mind it, Marron said casually, wetting the nasty' glue with his tongue, then pressing the stamp to an envelope. Gateau was about to respond, but then he noticed how very... turned on' he was by watching Marron lick the stamps, his keen pink tongue mapping over the tiny bit of paper like a cat's, moistening the adhesive with warm saliva... Gateau shut his mouth and said not a word more.  
  
When all of the envelopes were suitably full and stamped, Marron retrieved his pocket address book, and handed it to Gateau, under the arrangement that Gateau would read aloud while Marron wrote. After all of the invitations were addressed, Marron carried them over the mailbox, with Gateau at his side. Marron put them in one by one (dropping Mille's into the International box because he'd long gone back to France), only hesitating at the last one. Gateau leaned in for a better look and noted that it was the invitation addressed to Carrot and Tira. Gateau gently placed one hand over Marron's, and with the other, slowly freed the envelope from his fiancee's grasp, only to drop it into the mailbox, along with the others. Marron slowly withdrew his hand and stared numbly at the blue metal box before turning his gaze to Gateau, who simply smiled his encouragement. Mission accomplished, they made their way back to Gateau's motorcycle and rode home.  
  
  
Hey, you know, most people plan their weddings over the course of a year. Not less than a month. I mean, d'you really think three weeks is enough time to give everyone a chance to R.S.V.P? Gateau asked for about the zillionth time.   
  
It's fine, Gateau, Marron called over his shoulder. It was about four days after the invitations had gone out, and Marron was busy in the kitchen. He was supervising a pot on the stove, which was fixing to boil over. Cream of mushroom for dinner! Yummy-yummy for our tummy.  
  
Meanwhile, Gateau was hunched over a magazine at the kitchen table, busying himself with checking out numerous photographs of luverly ladies (he was browsing a Victoria's Secret catalog, not that Marron needed to know that) as he waited for the soup to be cooked. While it seemed unfair for Marron to be doing all of the cooking while Gateau mooched around oogling girly pictures, both parties were fine with it. Number one, Gateau always took the dirty laundry to the laundromat, so it was a fair exchange. Number two, Gateau + kitchen = RUN AWAY. Plus, Marron was an excellent cook. Nuff said.  
  
Still, I mean... Oh gods... Gateau's face paled, I forgot to put the phone number on the invitations!  
  
That's because _I_ put the phone number on the invitations, Marron said, turning around and gesturing at Gateau with the wooden spoon he was supposed to be stirring the soup with, I took care of all the information. Don't worry.  
  
The church address?  
  
  
  
Formal or Casual?  
  
  
  
  
  
Four o'clock.  
  
  
  
  
  
Marron immediately wheeled around and yanked open the toaster oven. He hastily pulled on a mitt and slid the tray out to examine the source of the black tendrils of smoke that filtered out of the oven. The rolls were burned to a crisp and couldn't have been broken if someone had attacked them with a sledgehammer. Marron first gazed ruefully at the blackened bread, then up at Gateau, who, following a staring spell that lasted exactly two seconds, burst out laughing. Marron hung his head as he deposited the no-longer-food into the garbage can.  
  
When Marron gave him a baleful look, Gateau tried to stifle his laughter by slapping both hands over his mouth. It did not work. Marron said not a word, until a few seconds had passed. In that short stretch of time, Gateau had succeeded in laughing himself into falling off his chair, landing on his rear end, and causing Marron to mutter the word , before turning his attention back to the soup to make sure that it too did not become toxic waste.   
  
When Gateau was finally able to subdue his amusement, he picked himself up, rubbing his poor, offended posterior, and sidled over to where Marron was watching the soup with golden hawk-like eyes. The older man had a seat on the counter top, watching Marron stir their thick, creamy/chunky dinner.  
  
I can't believe it, Marron muttered as he shook his head, disgusted with himself, I forgot to set the timer... Gods, I am stupid.  
  
No you're not.  
  
Yes I am.  
  
People who _are not_ stupid should not say that they're stupid in front of those who_ are_ stupid, Gateau scolded, waving his index finger in Marron's face, causing the younger man to cross his eyes and blink rapidly. Amusing.  
  
Gateau laughed, Just watch the soup. Don't screw up on that, okay?  
  
Don't worry, Marron assured him, I won't.  
  
Hey, Marron?  
  
  
  
Silence. Marron continued to scrutinize the pot. He stirred the goop around with the big wooden spoon a few times, and then stared some more.  
  
  
  
  
  
Another mute response. Marron dared not look up from their dinner and stirred the soup, slowly... gingerly... as if was glaring at him, threatening to bite if he tried anything funny.  
  
  
  
What, Gateau?!  
  
Yo, earth to Marron! I'm trying to tell you something, Gateau grumbled irritably, Or am I so ugly, you'd rather look at the pot?  
  
You told me to watch the soup, so I am.  
  
Gateau groaned, rolling his eyes, When I say to watch it, I don't mean for you to watch it _all the time_ like a friggen television screen or something.  
  
Well, then you should be more specific, Marron replied, his eyeballs still keenly focused upon the pot.   
  
  
  
Marron exclaimed more than asked, dropping the spoon into the soup with a satisfying kerplop', finally tearing his eyes away from the pot. He then let Gateau borrow his attention momentarily, turning his gaze upon the older man, who was still sitting on the counter top. Gateau was swinging his legs, causing his whole body to jerk slightly as an unhealthily large grin disrupted his features. Marron sighed, smiling and shaking his head before stepping closer to Gateau and draping his arms around the older man's neck. Gateau responded by returning the embrace and pulling Marron near enough to him, so that their lips could touch. Marron tried to bring himself even closer to Gateau, who helped him to accomplish this by wrapping his legs around Marron's middle, bringing his younger companion fully against his body, and deepening the kiss. Marron was so very into today's lovely little round of tonsil hockey' that he failed to notice the bubbling noise coming from somewhere to his left. Gateau noticed, though. The kiss came to a screeching halt as Gateau tore away and yelled, Oh HELL, the soup!  
  
Marron made a throaty, anguished noise as he looked over to his side and saw their dinner, spilling over the edge of the pot, browned in some places, and full of yucky-looking clots in others. He looked up at Gateau, I-... I'm sorr-  
  
Bah, don't worry about it. Shit happens, Gateau said, shrugging it off and smiling reassuringly. Marron gave Gateau a single sharp nod and went about cleaning up the mess.  
  
Gateau slid off the counter and pulled out the telephone book, placing the huge, floppy volume upon the table with an efficient thud'. As he was flipping through the pages, half of him was disappointed and sorry for distracting Marron, causing the demise of their dinner. He was quite fond of cream of mushroom soup. Mwah... But on the other hand, the consequences of a neglected pot of food had provided a sufficient distraction; While making out with Marron, the smaller man was held against his partner's body, and that delicious friction had made Gateau... think that his pants were a lot tighter than they shouldv'e been. By the grace of the gods, the soup had blossomed over the rim of the pot and claimed Marron's attention before the problem' got to be too noticeable... if it hadn't... Gateau shuddered to think. Mmm! Marron you are one sexy bitch- Oh, sorry bout the pony. Yeah, that would've gone over very well indeedy.  
  
Gateau found the number he was looking for, and made his way over to the phone, carrying the telephone book and holding his finger to the page so he wouldn't lose sight of his target. Gateau picked up the receiver and punched in the number.   
  
Dial tone.  
Click.  
  
Hello, Domino's Pizza, may I help you?  
  
Yeah, I'd like to order a large pizza with, uh... Hey Marron, you want pineapple on the pizza?, Gateau asked over his shoulder. Silence responded.  
  
Pineapple, Marron? Huh? Gateau turned around, only to discover that Marron was nowhere in sight. He must've cleaned up and made a none-too-gracious exit. The soup was scrubbed off of the stove and the now-empty pot was sitting in the sink, half filled with water. The kitchen was clean, but definitely Marron-less. Gateau sighed.  
  
Um, yeah a large pizza with half pineapple, half extra cheese, sausage, anchovies, and mushrooms, Gateau decided, going with his instincts. He gave the guy the address and was told it would be about ten minutes (seeing as the pizza place was only a few blocks away from the apartment building). Gateau hung up, and, before going in search of Marron, gathered up a few supplies'...  
  
Gateau found Marron sitting on the couch, staring at nothing with moody golden eyes. Pissed about having screwed up dinner, no doubt. The older man said nothing as he carefully had a seat next to Marron, mindful to keep his weapons' out of sight. Marron did not look up. He simply sat perfectly straight (not leaning against the couch, which would prove beneficial for Gateau's purposes), his arms crossed over his chest, rising and falling ever so slightly as he breathed. His expression was that of a discontented stoic. Marron did not look up when Gateau fiddled with something he couldn't see, nor when Gateau slowly reached around behind him. Marron didn't even look up when he felt Gateau's fingers carefully taking hold of the collar of his shirt, slowly pulling the fabric away from the back of his neck...  
  
...and promptly depositing a handful of ice cubes down his shirt.  
  
Marron didn't just_ look up_. He _leapt up_, yelping as the brisk, solidified H2O stung him like frosty bees. He clawed frantically at his back, while doing what appeared to be both an Irish jig and a belly dance at the same time. A few seconds later found Marron standing square-shouldered and panting, five half-melted ice cubes lying in a puddle on the floor, and Gateau doubled over on the couch, laughing fit to die.   
  
Marron took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice calm, Gateau. _Why_ did you do that?  
  
Gateau clutched his stomach with one hand, wiping away tears with the other as he stuttered, You...! should have seen...! your face....!  
  
Marron placed his fists on his hips and glared at Gateau. Completely deadpan (unless you counted the I-am-QUITE-pissed gleam in his eyes) and stony-voiced, Marron said, That was not funny, Gateau.  
  
Well, look at it this way, Gateau reasoned, finally succeeding in suppressing his laughter, At least I didn't put it down your pants!  
  
Marron's eyes grew wide and he opened his mouth to say something, only to be cut off by a knock at the door.  
  
Pizza guy! Gateau practically sang, hopping up from the couch and dashing to answer the door. He briefly glanced at the clock on the way, noting that it had indeed, been exactly ten minutes. Perfect timing!  
  
After paying for the pizza, Gateau marched it into the living room, dropping the flat box on the coffee table and plunking himself down beside Marron, who'd already taken a seat on the couch. Marron opened the box and appraised the pizza, his expression making a dramatic switch from glowering to gleeful.  
  
he remarked with an approving smile, My favorite.  
  
Yeah, I thought so, seeing as you order it every single time, Gateau said, plucking a piece of the fruit from the pizza, and holding it up to Marron's lips. The younger man carefully accepted the tidbit, smiling up at Gateau.   
  
Crisis averted. Gateau helped himself to a slice of his' side of the pizza.  
  
As both parties were supping on their respective halves of dinner, a metallic ringing noise disrupted the idle conversation they were having. Taking the half-eaten slice he was in the process of devouring with him, Gateau hauled himself off the sofa to get the phone.  
He picked up the receiver.  
  
Hullo? ..... No, this is Gateau, he's- ..... Oh, HEY! Long time no yack, what's up?  
  
Marron was only partially listening to Gateau's half of the conversation as he nibbled at the crust of his second slice of pizza. He wasn't really paying attention, but he could hear how very jolly Gateau sounded, and Marron really should've known that this meant that the call was of some happy significance.  
  
Yeah ..... uh-huh ..... Oh, well it's great to hear from ya ..... Yea- I'll tell him- I promise I'll tell him right now ..... Uh-huh ..... Okie-dokie smokie, we'll see you then ..... Kay, bye.  
  
Click.  
  
Gateau then returned, striding jauntily into the living room and sat himself down next to Marron, grinning like a true lunatic. Needless to say, Marron was curious.  
  
Who were you talking to?  
  
Gateau's smile grew even wider, That was Tira. She and the kids are coming.  
  
Marron's eyes lit up and the hints a smile were playing over his lips, but his joy slowly faded.  
  
And... Carrot? he inquired softly.  
  
Gateau sighed through his teeth, Well, she wouldn't say much about him, except that he grunted a yes' of sorts after she did some heavy-duty bitching at him.  
  
Marron's eyes dimmed in contemplation. His heart felt as though it was being torn in two. Part of him was full of dread... What kind of slap on the wrist would he receive for taking his... tendencies' to a level as high as this? But something else within him said that this was his chance. His would be seeing Carrot again for the first time since the Big Blow-up', and the two of them could very possibly ball up their differences and cast them into the big wastepaper basket of the forgotten past. Perhaps they could be brothers again.  
  
Marron's stewing thoughts were interrupted as another shrill, metallic ring intruded upon his perception. He looked expectedly at Gateau who was connected to his fourth slice of pizza by a long, thin string of cheese that looked like it would go on stretching until the cows came home . Gateau didn't move and gave Marron a funny look.  
  
Don't look at me, I got it last time, he said through a mouthful of pizza. Fair enough, Marron decided, getting up and padding over to the phone. He picked it up.  
  
  
  
Silence. Unlike Marron, Gateau paid full attention to his fiancee's phone-talk... Well, maybe not full attention, seeing as he had to devote some of his focus to making sure he didn't profane the upholstery with his errant strands of cheese.  
  
...No, would you like to speak with him? ..... I will go get him, then. Who's calling?  
  
Sensing he was about to be summoned, Gateau hastily finished his pizza in one bite. There was a somewhat long pause, during which Marron frowned slightly, Alright, I'll tell him... he said warily, Yes, hold on please... Marron covered the receiver with his hand before calling, Gateau, it's for you.  
  
Gateau got up and headed into the kitchen, where Marron handed him the phone and started back toward the couch.  
  
Who is it?  
  
I don't know. Wouldn't say. Marron answered over his shoulder before disappearing from view. Gateau shrugged and put the receiver to his ear.  
  
Hello? ..... Speaking. Who's this? ..... No, I don't think so ..... Yeah ..... Um, could you speak up, Miss? I can't- before he could finish his sentence, Gateau's eyes went wide and his jaw dropped.  
  
Oh my gods... he breathed, staggering backwards and collapsing against the wall in shock, Oh. My. Freaking. Gods.  
  
  
Nearly an hour later, the leftover pizza had been packaged and put away for tomorrow's lunch, and Marron was sitting cross-legged on the couch, reading the latest addition to his expansive bookshelf (a book called Utopia'). Gateau finally hung up the phone and wandered into the living room in a daze, collapsing on the couch, the force of the impact nearly sending Marron toppling off.  
  
Gateau, what is it? Marron asked, a bit startled and quite concerned as he marked his place in the book and removed his glasses. He was shocked to see Gateau; Red around the eyes, wiping away still more tears with a Kleenex, and wearing a sentimental grin that would've put the star of a cheap cable romance movie to shame. Emitting a gasp of joy, Gateau bombarded Marron, hugging him fiercely, almost hard enough to make his golden eyes pop right out of their sockets.  
  
Marron gasped, unable to draw breath and turning all sorts of fun colors. Thankfully, Gateau loosened his grip a bit, only to kiss Marron multiple times all over his face. Marron caught Gateau's face in his hands, then gently dried the tear-streaks with his fingertips, Gateau, what has gotten into you?  
  
Gateau's voice shook with the force of his joy as he managed to utter one word;  
  
  
  
  
Nearly an hour later, Marron heard the lock on the door click and he placed _Utopia_ on the coffee table. Gateau was bringing Eclaire into the apartment. Apparently she and Gateau had agreed to meet somewhere and she would come home with him. Although Gateau had assured Marron that he was more than welcome to come along, he had declined. Marron had never met Gateau's younger sister, and he would've felt awkward and in the way'. Gateau and Eclaire had not seen each other in twelve years, so Marron felt that their first reunion should be between the two of them and them alone.   
  
The door opened and then closed, and Marron could feel the presence of a new aura that blended almost perfectly with Gateau's, only this one was more muted and pale. So she was a little shy, then. Alright.   
  
Marron saw Gateau stride into the apartment with a second figure at his side. He looked like he was emotionally and blissfully drunk. The one beside him was quite small, not even coming up to Gateau's shoulder. She was very muscular, but thin and wiry. She wore a torn, stained knee-length skirt, no shoes, and a faded plaid button-up shirt. Her face was hidden almost completely by a scarf that was wrapped around her head. The fact that she was concealing her face was a bit unsettling, but, never one be rude, Marron stood from the couch and gave her a pleasant smile.   
  
Um, Eclaire, I want you to meet Marron, Gateau said, gesturing to his fiancee, Marron, this is my sister, Eclaire.  
  
Despite the kindness of Marron's smile, Eclaire still stood her ground, withdrawing behind the scarf. Big brother gave little sister a knowing look. She hesitated for a moment before very slowly lifting her hand and removing the scarf, baring her face to Marron for the first time.  
  
She was definitely Gateau's sister. She had his messy honey-blond hair in a short, jagged cut that looked like it had been lopped off with a knife (it had). She had her brother's tanned complexion, and her muscles were strong and firm beneath her sunbrowned-skin, like she'd worked like an ox for most of her life (she did). Her face was small and angular, with strong, petite tomboyish features. She had Gateau's big, baby-blue eyes, but they held a kind of translucent darkness. Like the eyes of a soldier, or a prostitute. Like she had spent her childhood, hoping for the arrival of a knight in shining armor whom she know very well would never come (she had). Well, that is to say, all of the aforementioned applied to the eye she had left... A livid scar severed her eyebrow and ripped down over her right eye, which was shut permanently. It was truly a terrifying attribute to behold, like something out of a bad horror movie, but Marron didn't even blink. Gateau watched in wonder and Eclaire in pleasant disbelief as Marron took her hand with the utmost grace and a ton of culture, and kissed it gently.   
  
It is a pleasure to meet you, Eclaire.  
  
A-and you... the little blonde managed to squeak, unable to believe that a man who possessed such pulchritude paid no mind to her disfigured face. He had been abused for the way he looked all his life, so he knew how much it hurt. Besides, even if she was horribly scarred, when Eclaire smiled at him, not only was she beautiful. She was radiant. Thus, in that short span of time, Marron had earned Eclaire's trust.   
  
  
In addition to the many traits she shared with Gateau, Eclaire had his extremely healthy appetite. The three of them sat at the kitchen table and Eclaire filled the guys in on her rather unhappy childhood as she consumed the five pieces of pizza that were left over from dinner. She'd been kidnapped at the age of five, on the eve of Gateau's thirteenth birthday. They'd put her to work in a factory in Brazil, screwing caps on tubes of toothpaste. A few years later, she was transferred to a plantation, where she harvested crops like coffee and bananas. Finally, shortly after she'd entered into her teen years, she'd been placed on the assembly line for Abercrombie and Fitch. Both Gateau and Marron were happy to say that they'd never bought anything from those Ghetto Yuppie Scalpers as Gateau so affectionately dubbed them. She also informed her brother and Marron on how she'd lost her eye. A jaguar had wandered into the camp where she and her fellow workers slept and ate. The animal had smelled the meat they were cooking and had scaled the fence surrounding the ghetto. It had walked passively into the camp, without shaking a whisker while the terrified children watched from a distance. It showed no signs of attack until an older boy saw it heading for the pot of stew that was being warmed over a fire and leapt between the animal and the food. The jaguar then attacked and killed the boy, and all hell broke loose. Upon seeing one of their comrades killed, the children burst into a screaming frenzy. Frightened by the commotion, the jaguar panicked and ran about, searching for an escape, finding only walls to the left, walls to the right, and threatening to attack those who stood in its way. It was Eclaire who leapt in front of it, dancing and darting about, providing a distraction for the big cat as one of her friends ran for help. Just as a few of the foremen arrived, the jaguar pounced on her, one of its claws finding her face. The men arrived in time to stop the animal from biting her head off, opening the gate and scaring the jaguar away with gunshots. Eclaire's eye could not be saved, so it was removed and the cut was sewn closed. She said she liked to think of it as a battle scar' because all of her fellow workers had the utmost respect for her after the incident. Later still, she received the best birthday present ever. The day she turned seventeen, the FBI busted the factory, freeing all of the workers were, and searches were conducted to find their families. Gateau was her only living relative (their mother and father had died recently) so she was put on a plane to America. Because she was not yet eighteen and not of a legal age to live alone, she was placed in a foster home less than a mile away from the apartment building. Though Gateau and Marron both insisted that she could stay with them if Gateau could get custody of her, Eclaire shook her head, saying that the foster home provided a training program that could give her the necessary education for a part-time job, and that three was a crowd in an apartment.   
  
she added, a wry smile on her face, You guys don't want a girl piddling around your place now that you're...um... she concluded the statement, gesturing by crossing her fingers, I mean, you _are_... um... going steady, right?  
  
Marron gave Gateau a funny look, You didn't tell her?  
  
Tell her what?  
  
Marron raised his eyebrows and let his fingertips drum on the table top, drawing Gateau's attention to his ring...  
  
Gateau exclaimed, slapping his forehead, No, I didn't!  
  
He grabbed Marron's wrist and held out Marron's hand along with his own, showing Eclaire their rings. She leaned over for a look, and her raised her eyebrows as a large grin spread over her face, Oh, no _way_... She looked from the rings, to Gateau, over at Marron, then back at the rings again. Gateau looked at Eclaire, then at the rings, then at Marron, whose gaze focused on his ring, then Gateau, then Eclaire. After playing a sufficient few seconds' worth of eyeball pachinko, Eclaire spoke again, still grinning broadly, So, you guys are married, huh?  
  
Gateau corrected, We're getting married in a few weeks.  
  
And you are more than welcome to attend, Marron finished for Gateau.  
  
Eclaire laughed, I can't wait! Sounds like smashing-good fun. Wouldn't miss it for a hot fudge sundae.  
  
Speaking of which, Marron said, taking his hand back, Gateau, why don't we all get ice cream? It's only a few blocks away, so we can walk.  
  
Eclaire just about squealed, her one good eye lighting up with joy, I haven't tasted ice cream in so long!  
  
Gateau smiled. He had been devoted to his little sister and was heartbroken when she'd been kidnapped. Anything he could do that would make her happy, now that he finally had her back, he would.   
  
Yeah, let's go, he agreed, My treat.  
  
After Eclaire took a quick shower and was suitably dressed in some of Marron's clothes (Gateau's were much too big for her), the three of them were strolling down the street lamp-lit sidewalk, toward the Storm Brothers ice cream parlor. It had been a family business for over a hundred years, and looked somewhere between old fashioned and retro. The floor was check-tiled and there was an antique wooden bar of the side with these spiffy revolving stools to sit on. There was also an awesome variety of flavors from the expected Vanilla and Chocolate, to Strawberry Cheesecake and Cotton Candy. Marron got a sugar cone with a single scoop of Mint Chocolate chip. Gateau got a double-decker waffle cone with one scoop of French Vanilla and another of Mocha-Chip for himself, and a cup of Chocolate-Chip Cookie-Dough ice cream for his sister. Despite the size of his order, Gateau finished first and had to help Marron. Because of his slow, delicate eating habits, Marron hadn't even finished half of his ice cream before it moved into its major melt-down stage. Eclaire giggled as she watched her brother and his boyfriend frantically lapping up the melting ice cream, Marron getting quite a bit of it on his face in the process. Once they were out of danger, and all that remained to be consumed was the cone, Gateau took it upon himself to kiss away' the ice cream on Marron's face. Little sister smiled to herself as she watched Gateau rid Marron of the last traces of his dessert, this gesture making him look like a kitten cleaning a companion's face. Cute.   
  
They walked home, with Gateau carrying his little sister on his shoulders, like he used to before she had been stolen away from him.  
  
When they returned to the apartment, it was decided that letting Eclaire have the bed was only fair, seeing as she's slept on the hard boards of a makeshift bunk most of her young life. At 10:31, Gateau tucked Eclaire in. He knelt beside the bed, holding his little sister's hand while Marron waited patiently, not too far away. The whole thing was almost like a hospital scene from a drama flick, Marron thought, smiling to himself.  
  
I always knew I'd find you again, Eclaire said, looking lovingly up at her brother with her one eye, I never lost hope.  
  
Gateau smiled, I'm glad you didn't, he said, Eclaire, I missed you so much.  
  
I missed you too, said Eclaire, You were the best big brother ever. Always putting up with my whining and yapping. Always trying to make me happy...  
  
I'd drink poison for you, Eclaire, Gateau said, looking ready to cry all over again as he held her hand in both of his own, You're my little sister. I was heartbroken when you were gone.  
  
I was too, she said.  
  
I'm here now, Gateau said, as though reassuring a woman on her deathbed.  
  
Yes, you are here, Eclaire nodded, And so am I.  
  
And I'll never lose you again, Gateau promised, letting go of her hand only to take his little sister into his arms, hugging her. She hugged him back, and the silent spectator, Marron, felt a warmth seep into his heart as he watched them. What incredible siblings, he thought, suddenly resurrecting an old ache within his heart. Carrot...  
  
Gateau laid Eclaire back down, pulling up the covers and giving her a kiss on the forehead.   
  
Goodnight, sis. Sleep well.  
  
You too, Gateau, Eclaire said before she curled up and closed her eye, keen on getting a good night's sleep. Gateau brushed her bangs away from her forehead before getting up and leaving the bed. Marron followed him over to where they faced a new problem... Was it even possible for two men to share a couch???  
  
Gateau pulled out a blanket, and wrapped it around himself and around Marron, and they both sat down on the sofa.  
  
It's so wonderful, Marron said.  
  
Hmmm, what is? asked Gateau.  
  
It's wonderful to see you so happy, Marron replied, leaning his head against Gateau's shoulder, and that you and Eclaire have finally found each other. That you care so much for her.  
  
Gateau agreed. It took him a few seconds to realize what Marron was talking about, and Gateau felt overcome with pity. He had finally found Eclaire, after so many years. At least she had a big brother who cared for her... who _wanted_ her...  
  
Gateau placed his arms around Marron, holding him close, and massaging his back. Marron felt the waves of comfort seeping out of Gateau's aura and gratefully allowed them to wash over him as Gateau soothed him with a loving touch that would've been more at home within the hands of an angel.   
  
He's coming to our wedding, Gateau said, pausing to remind Marron, Things will work out.   
  
I hope so, Marron said, nestling up against Gateau, I hope so...  
  
  
Eclaire awoke at close to three a.m., having need of the toilet. Her heart stopped for a few seconds when she felt an obscenely soft bed beneath her rather than the cold, hard wooden planks of her bunk, and the warmth she felt was provided, not by a humid climate, but a soft, down comforter. She shot straight up in bed, breathing hard. Her one-eyed gaze darted about the apartment for a good few seconds before she remembered...  
  
Smiling to herself, she slid out of bed and made her way over to the bathroom, pausing only to glance briefly over at where her brother and Marron were settled on the sofa. They were sharing a blanket and Gateau had fallen asleep sitting up, his slumbering fiancee snug in his arms and lap. Eclaire smiled to herself, then returned to her attention to the reason why she'd gotten up in the first place. She found the restroom and a huge grin spread across her face upon seeing the pristine, powder-blue tiles! The graceful curve of the sink with its shining metal faucet! The dulcet pink of the shower curtain! The gleaming white porcelain of the toilet! A real, in-your-face place to answer the call of nature! No more palm trees! No more banana leaves! No more stinky mud! Ah, bliss.   
  
  
The next day, Gateau and Marron took Eclaire on a mini-shopping spree. They bought her a few sets of good clothes, some non-perishable food items/snackies, and other goodies she'd need/want for her stay at the foster home. After putting together her care-package (which included a wedding invitation of course), Gateau and Marron walked Eclaire to the foster home. Before going inside, they paused at the steps, where Marron hugged Eclaire and told her it was nice meeting her. She told him that he and Gateau were a beautiful pair, and that he had better make her brother happy, lest she poke him repeatedly with a pointy stick.  
  
Gateau then gave his sister a hug, and said his goodbyes.  
  
You come and visit me, okay?  
  
Of course I will, Gateau promised, I only wish I could take you out of this place, myself.  
  
A year will go by in flash after what I've been through, Eclaire replied, I'll be out of here before you know it. Meanwhile, you've got someone else who needs and deserves your love and attention, Eclaire said, not even slightly bitter, and very possibly a little playful to boot, He's quite a catch, Gateau. Take care of him. I'm sure he'll do the same for you.  
  
Gateau said, still holding tightly to his sister, Now that I have you back, I don't wanna let you go.  
  
It's alright, Eclaire said, petting the back of her brother's head, I'm here to stay.  
  
Yeah. Me too, sis. Me too.  
  
When Gateau finally released Eclaire, he stood his ground and watched as she walked through that door, stopping only long enough to give him a smile and a wave, before disappearing. He raised his hand to wave back, but she was already gone. Gateau stared numbly at the door, not sure what to think or feel, until Marron gently took hold of his arm.  
  
Let's go home, Gateau, he requested softly.  
  
Gateau said as if in a daze, not taking his eyes off the door, even as Marron began to lead him away.


	5. One Never Knows

**~PART FOUR~**  
One Never Knows  


  
  
_So please don't shed anymore tears  
That is the energy most dear to me._  
~Miho Matsuba What's Up Guys?'  
  
  
I thought you meant the other Italian joint where they found a rat in the bouillon base, Gateau snickered as Marron led him up to the doors of Squisito's. Once inside, they had a seat at a table, and both unfolded their menus to make a selection.  
  
I think I'd like pizza.  
  
Marron, we already had pizza.  
  
Last week.  
  
Still, this is a nice place. We should get something we couldn't get at home.  
  
A few contemplative seconds passed in silence as each party examined his menu, looking for something that would tickle his fancy (besides pizza).  
  
The Spaghetti Bella Grande looks good, Gateau noted.  
  
Marron agreed, sighting the picture of said dish. True to it's name, the platter was rather large, but nevertheless heaped with a droolworthy amount of noodles, sauce and good-sized meatballs.  
  
Why don't we get one to split? Marron suggested.  
  
That's cool with me, Gateau agreed, folding up his menu. Marron followed his example, laying his own menu flat on the table. Once rid of this obstruction, Gateau was able to stare at Marron, admiring how very nice he looked; He was wearing a tight black velvet shirt, along with his kilt and patent leather platforms. He was so incredibly pale that his skin provided a clean contrast to the black he wore.   
  
What's the matter, Gateau?  
  
Gateau blinked for a moment, tearing his eyes away from Marron, No... Nothing...  
  
Marron shrugged to himself, and casually brushed an errant tress of burgundy hair behind his ear. As he lifted his hand, the glint of the light on his ring caught Gateau's attention. Gateau looked down at his own ring, unable to suppress a joyful moronic grin. He was going to marry Marron. Not so long ago, it seemed as though Marron would never be more to him than a mere friend, and here he was now, eating dinner with Marron, his fiancee, who would be his husband in barely a few days. This thought left Gateau feeling all warm and plushy inside as his heart squealed like a schoolgirl, turning his blood more sugary than Log Cabin maple syrup (it's all artificial sweeteners. You have to know that that crap is practically VOID of the stuff you get from a tree).  
  
After a very satisfactory dinner of more spaghetti than they'd ever begun to think they could fit into their stomachs, Marron and Gateau left Squisito's, feeling fat and happy. As they ventured down a more dodgy' area of town, they had a very interesting encounter with a being of the past. As they were strolling past an alleyway, a voice crooned from their left,  
  
Hey, Tiger, you wanna taste of this town's most delectable hospitality?  
  
Both men froze as a soft, nasal voice that was hauntingly familiar drifted out of the alley.   
  
Your friend can come too. There's enough of me to go around.  
  
Gateau's and Marron's jaws just about hit the sidewalk as a slender woman slid out from the shadows of the alley into view. She wore black patent leather knee-high boots, fishnet stockings, an obscenely short black skirt and a tight, shiny red leather top that showed a lot of cleavage. Her hair hung in red, flossy ribbons that were a little past ear-legnth in an overgrown bowl cut. Her facial features were heavily made-up, but through the excess of brown eye shadow, you could still see her piercing, dark blue eyes. No... It couldn't be... but it was...  
  
  
  
The woman's blue eyes went wide as she heard her name leave the lips of the stripe-haired blond. How did he know her? She certainly didn't remember servicing him. But there was something very familiar about him... and his femmie sidekick...  
  
Oh my gods... She breathed, she asked, pointing to said person. He nodded.   
  
And Marron?  
  
He smiled as the path of her finger found him, Hello Chocolate.  
  
Oh my GODS! she repeated, throwing her arms around Gateau, and then embracing Marron, You guys! Haven't seen ya in forever! Well, don't just stand there! Come on in, and let's have a little sit-down reunion.  
  
Chocolate seized Marron's hand and bade Gateau follow her as she led her friends to her home.  
  
Chocolate lived in the ghetto-ish part of town. Her house was a tiny run-down cottage-looking thing with two rooms; one with a table and four overturned wooden crates pretending to be chairs that was for eating in, and other with a gaudy set-up of pillows and blankets on a mattress that was for... exercising her profession. Except for said furniture and a rickety cabinet, Chocolate's house was bare. The floor was laced with evidence that termites were enjoying her home as well, and the walls showed quite a bit of dry rot and a vast array of cracks. Her roof looked as though it was rotting and the some dust fell from the dry rafters every once in a while. The place looked like crap, but of course Gateau and Marron said nothing, and seated themselves upon two of the overturned wooden crates at Chocolate's behest. She retrieved a few Juice Boxes and a package of sugar wafers from the cabinet, and set the items on the table before having a seat.   
  
Nice place, huh? Chocolate said, an edge of cold sarcasm embedded in her voice. Neither man knew how to answer, so both remained silent.   
  
Sorry I can't offer you more, Chocolate said humbly, punching her straw into her Juice Box, But times are hard. Not many people have come a'calling lately. Guess the hormones are in hibernation this time of year.  
  
As she extended her hand, offering Marron a Juice Box, Gateau noticed a few fresh bruises along her much-too-skinny arm.  
  
No problem, he said, pretending to not see what he was seeing.  
  
Marron nodded, equally uneasy, We understand.  
  
They did understand, but it made them feel no less awkward. There was not a lot you could say to someone living in what couldv'e been called poverty without worry of offending her. One would think that this wouldn't be true, because prositutes and bums and the like have seen everything. This was not the case. Chocolate had always been a proud and passionate lady. Her personality was as firey as her hair was red. She stubbornly kept her soul nailed upon what she believed in, no matter what anyone said. A hurricane could not have swayed her. Yet, to see her now, in such a broken state... Not only did it make Gateau and Marron feel squirmy inside. It was heartwrenching. But Chocolate never wanted pity. Such a gift disgusted her, and hell hath no fury like Chocolate scorned. Noting their own unease, they decided to let Chocolate do most or all of the talking, and would speak when spoken to. That path was much safer.   
  
Well I dun wanna got into gruesome detail about what a bitch Life has been to me, Chocolate said, crossing her legs and allowing her hands to support her face as her elbows were supported by the table, so why don't you guys tell me all about what you've been up to?  
  
Nothing really, Gateau said, shrugging, and trying to look as casual as possible, But Marron just graduated from college.  
  
Chocolate said, looking over at Marron, Well, you always were the smartest of us all. You never had the complications of unrequited love and the other such bullshit riddling your life, Chocolate said, a bittersweet half-smile playing over her cherry-vinyl lips, So now that you're ready to face the world what are you gonna do?  
  
Marron said, trying not to let his pity show in his voice, I'm going to be a Special Education teacher.  
  
Chocolate said, raising her eyebrows, Share your smarts to the rest of the dumb world. Gods only know people these days could get a little smarter. It seems that everyone but a select few actually get to be all they can be in the life. The rest just get stupider and stupider, and end up filling themselves up with shit like drugs and drinks. And... wasting away... Chocolate's voice, which had turned bitter and dark, trailed off, as her expression turned to a cold frown. Both men remained silent for a few seconds, while she made her way out of the frigid silence she'd fallen into. Slowly, but surely, her voice brightened a bit as she continued, But, it looks like there's a little light at the end of my tunnel, Chocolate said, her voice maintaining only a few of the dark traces of bitterness, I'm happy to inform you two that I underwent therapy for a year, and I graduated last week. No more shots for moi. I'm now officially clean.  
  
That's wonderful, Chocolate, Marron said, smiling to lighten the mood.  
  
Yeah, congratulations, Gateau added.  
  
Well, at least it means no more hangovers. No more stealing. No more ducking the police. It's also quite liberating in the financial sense. But there are still taxes to be paid, so I'm still a lousy, lumberjacking bitch-ho. Chocolate lamented, snorting with disgust, Gods... I never thought that I would sink so low as to defile myself like this, just to stay alive...  
  
Gateau and Marron held their breath, not knowing how to look or think as Chocolate continued, Fifty bucks... Fifty. Freaking. Bucks... So some louse can push me down and sweat beer all over me. Make me feel as though I'm a silly toy, a pet he can pick up and then drop like a newborn girraffe. Like I'm not even human.  
  
She sighed heavily, her starved, abused body going lax into a forlorn droop. She only looked up when Gateau reached across the table and gently touched her hand in a gesture that was comforting, but not out of pity. She managed a tiny smile for him.  
  
Back when I was a fall-down drunk, what I did for money was not so bad, Chocolate continued, To some extent, I even managed to get some pleasure of my own out of it. I was happy because, like a stalwart companion, or a best friend, alcohol could always take my pain away. But now... Everytime I lie with a man, I feel as though he's sleeping with someone who is and was already dead. It's killing me. It's absolutely killing me. But I know I can't go back. I can never go back. If I do, then I will die for real.   
  
Marron sighed sympathetically, willing waves of comfort to seep from his aura, and soak into Chocolate's. Somehow, this seemed to have at least some effect, for she shook her head and sighed, waving her hand dimissively.  
  
Well, they always say that you gotta put the past behind ya, so I plan on making a major effort toward a reasonable life. It'll be hard, but I know I can do it.  
  
I know you can too, Gateau said bracingly, releasing her hand and smiling his encouragement. Marron nodded in agreement. Both men believed with all their hearts that Chocolate would, someday, find a sunrise that would bring about the dawn of a new life for her. She would have to struggle, and deal with a good lot of hardship, but Chocolate was extraordinary. Some people would say she was stubborn as a bull. Better people would say she was stout-hearted. Her stamina was incredible, as was evident in her teen years when she'd been crushing on Carrot. She'd been very open with her feelings. Often too open for her own good, in fact. Her extravagant displays of affection often scared Carrot more than pleased him. Thus, for years, Carrot spent a great deal of his time giving Chocolate the red light. No matter how many times she was spurned, Chocolate never gave up. She kept on going and going like a red-haired Energizer Bunny. Her shy baby sister, Tira had also held a candle for Carrot, and suffered in silence as Chocolate continued to throw herself at his feet. It wasn't that Tira was not honest with her feelings. It was just that she was far too timid to say anything while Chocolate was so boldly latching onto Carrot, and supposedly making it clear that they were destined to be together. Not to mention the additional attempts of a certain bisexual crossdressing lunatic. Mille would also ruthlessly pursue Carrot, glomping onto the elder Glace boy and calling him Cutie, along with other such simpering tags of affection. With the colorful and endless parade of open flirting from Chocolate and Mille, Tira often felt as though her hopes and dreams were pointless and stupid. However, the ironic whim of Fate had brought Carrot to Tira. If it had been another woman, you could be sure that Chocolate would've immediately lept between them and given Carrot a good maiming. But it was her little sister, whom she loved dearly. Thus, incredibly, Chocolate had accepted defeat. Even though Marron and Gateau secretly thought that Tira and Carrot deserved eachother, they still felt for the elder Misu sister, with whom Ugly Fate had so cruelly dealt with.  
  
I'm glad you guys still believe in me, Chocolate said, her voice possessing a faint note of gratitude, My courage is somewhat less than it was. But, I like to look at it like this; I'm already on my way, thanks to my sister and that husband of hers. Oh, did you hear? Tira just had her baby.  
  
  
  
Yup. Toffee Glace. Female. Two weeks old on Thursday. I got to see her after I came out of the therapy place, Chocolate said, actually smiling, her iced-blue eyes softened a bit with adoration at the memory, Gods, she's adorable. She's got curly black hair, and your eyes, now that I think of it... only hers are blue, Chocolate said, gesturing at Marron, Oh, by the way Marron, have you heard from Carrot at all? When I asked him about you, he looked out the window and started talking about the weather.  
  
Um, it's kind of-  
  
No, Gateau, it's alright, Marron said, putting a hand on Gateau's arm, cutting him off gently before taking a quick breath and turning back to Chocolate, I don't think Carrot would've spoken of me even if the weather weren't worth mentioning. He's quite angry with me and as of a year ago, I'm disowned. Marron said, perfectly calm, a little surprised himself at how okay he was with saying that out loud.  
  
My gods, that's awful! Chocolate gasped, before crossing her arms and frowning bitterly, So, Carrot cast you aside like a four-cent pair of socks. I know how _that_ feels. Chocolate grumbled, rolling her eyes, So, what was his excuse for flicking _you_ off?  
  
Well, let me put it this way, Marron replied, are you busy on Sunday?  
  
Chocolate replied flatly, giving him a no-nonsense look, I'm _busy_ everyday.  
  
Gateau nearly gagged on his juice. Marron's only reaction was a slight twitch of the brow.  
  
I see... Marron said, pulling a card out of his pocket, But do you think you could take some time out of your busy schedule to come to our wedding?  
  
Whose wedding? Chocolate asked, puzzled as she accepted the card. Upon opening it and reading the names inside, she let out a little gasp.  
  
Well, shoot me if I miss this! she declared, leaping up from her seat and placing the card carefully on the cabinet top. She drooped a little as she sat back down, looking at the guys with a soft shame dimming her blue irises, but, are you sure you want a skanky whorebag like me profaning the joyous atmosphere of this blessed event?  
  
Gateau said, giving her a smile, but above all, we want our _friends_ to come, so please do.  
  
You'd be seen with _me_ in public?  
  
Marron said with a small, but reassuring smile, You're our friend, and we want you with us.  
  
...Alright. I'll be there, Chocolate said with an almost cheerful shrug. She then rose from her seat, Well you guys, it's been nice, but I'm losing valuable money-earning time. You never know when some gutter rat with a promising pocket is gonna walk by.  
  
Very well, Marron said, We'll be off then.  
  
Chocolate escorted the two men back to the alley entrance, where she bid them each farewell.  
  
It was really great seeing you both again, she said, giving them each a smile, I can't wait till Sunday. I know your wedding's gonna be beautiful.  
  
We'll see ya then.  
  
Before we leave... Marron said, digging into his pocket and retrieving his wallet, I want to give you this.  
  
Oh no, Marron, I can't take your money... Chocolate declined as he held out a couple twenties.  
  
We used over a half an hour of your business time, he reasoned, It's the least I can do.  
  
Well, I thank you, Marron, Chocolate said, accepting the money and tucking it away in her cleavage, seeing as she had no pockets, and giving him a warm, grateful smile, You always were too kind.  
  
Goodbye Chocolate.  
  
Bye guys!  
  
Chocolate waved until they were out of sight, then the redheaded whore set herself up in the alley entrance, her keen blue eyes on a sharp lookout for anyone who wanted a quickie and was willing to pony up the moolah for a damn good one.  
  
  
Would you kindly close your window?  
  
But there's a nice breeze. Why d'you want it closed?  
  
I just do.  
  
Well, why?  
  
  
  
Oh gods, Marron, will you PLEASE stop giving me the stink-eye? I HATE that!  
  
I'm not giving you the stink-eye.  
  
Yes you are. You're doing it right now!  
  
I just want the window closed. PLEASE.  
  
Okay... Okay... Gateau mumbled, finally surrendering, and closing the window. The loud jaugernut of the road was thankfully gone, as was any noise for that matter. The only other occupant of the bus was an old lady who looked as though she was living proof that dinosaurs once walked the earth. She was probably as blind and deaf as the fossil she resembled, so the two men paid her no mind. She was way up in the front of the bus while they were in the very back anyway. Gateau broke the silence only to bitch.  
  
It's hot. I don't see why we can't just open one window.  
  
I want it closed.  
  
You mean you're afraid you're gonna get sucked out.  
  
No, that's not it.  
  
Yes it is, Gateau teased, You're afraid you are going to be sucked out. Admit it!  
  
The wind is blowing my hair, and I want to keep it nice, Marron said, Do you really want to marry me with my hair going every direction at once? And the noise bothers me.  
  
Alright, fine. No more open window from me, no more stink-eye from you, deal?  
  
But I wasn't giving you the stink-  
  
Gateau insisted.  
  
Marron rolled his eyes,   
  
Silence. For a few seconds, both parties continued to stare out of their respective (closed) windows. Then both turned their heads at the same time, looking at each other and burst out laughing. A full minute later, Marron's breath was still shaking with laughter as Gateau was leaning his head on Marron's shoulder, dispensing the last of his own amusement and wondering what the hell was so damn funny. They remained this way until the bus stopped at the Seven Eleven.   
  
That's our stop, Marron said, starting to get up. He laughed, Don't forget your head, he muttered, carefully lifting Gateau's stripey-blond cranium from his shoulder with one hand.  
  
They left the bus and the old lady, and from the Seven Eleven, the two walked hand in hand to the church.  
  
  
So, are ya with the groom or the groom? the brown-haired white-robed usher whose name tag read Cinnamon Koocha' asked before laughing, Just kidding. So who are you with?  
  
I guess we're with Marron, the rose-haired woman replied, shrugging. When her husband snorted disdainfully, she swatted him with her free hand (she was holding her infant child with the other arm). Cinnamon led them into the the church and had them sit down, then he hurried back to the door to escort the next party in.   
  
Tira, this shirt is absolutely strangling me, Carrot grumbled as his wife shifted her baby daughter to one arm, so she could straighten her older son's bow tie with the other.   
  
I'll take it back next Thursday, honey, she said, without looking over at him.  
  
Well that doesn't really help me, now, does it?  
  
Oh, for pete's sake, hold still..... Carrot, this shirt is fine.  
  
Well, it feels too tight around the neck.  
  
Maybe it's because of your tie, Tira suggested, then smiled knowingly, Or maybe it's because you're just ancy about having to see _him_ again.  
  
I am not, Carrot said, in dark (futile) protest. Tira shrugged and said before turning to her son again, Aw, honey, you've got a spot!   
  
As his wife was trying to get the offending stain out of the collar of her son's shirt, Carrot began to realize how right she was. He was indeed very squirmy inside at the thought of seeing the brother he'd shunned for so many years. Despite the qualms he felt in the pit of his stomach, Carrot decided it would be best to talk to Marron before the wedding and get it over with. He scanned the church sanctuary for his brother, seeing all kinds of rainbow-y decorations and banners, triangle-shaped sequins littering the floor, a few flower arrangements off the to side, and some more guests filing in, but there was no sign of his younger brother anywhere. He didn't even see that moronic corruptor of innocents- yes he did... Gateau was standing off to the side, talking to a young woman with green hair that Carrot didn't recognize. She nodded and left Gateau's side. As his attention was no longer held by her, Gateau happened to look in Carrot's direction and he froze for a moment, noticing that he was being watched. Gateau then made his way over to where Carrot was sitting with his wife and children. Carrot stiffened slightly, feeling a sharp edge of annoyance bristling throughout his body as the blond man approached. He was wearing a black tux with... black motorcycle boots? And a dog collar? His hair, which was greased into a deep side-part, was candy-striped red. The guy had always been a weirdo, but _still_...  
  
Well, hullo Gateau, Carrot said, almost coldly, but politely and not looking for trouble.  
  
Hey Carrot. Gateau said as casually as he could, trying to disregard the half-glare Carrot was giving him. And he thought _Marron_ gave him a nasty stink-eye. Ouch.  
  
Hello Gateau, Tira said warmly, giving him a congenial smile.  
  
Hello there Tira, Gateau said, having no trouble greeting her. When he'd last seen her, Tira was a petite little cherub who wore coke-bottle glasses. She was skinny as a bean pole, shy, and skittish. Now she was more laid back and casual, and a maternal warmth seemed to radiate from her as she cradled her baby. She wasn't beautiful so much in the sexy' sense anymore. Her beauty had undergone a shift into a more down-to-earth glow'. But she was still quite beautiful, nonetheless, with her curly strawberry-red hair (which had gotten a bit longer) and her gentle eyes, like rose petals, in front of which were wire-framed glasses.  
  
Carrot looked pretty much the same. He had wire for hair and his black cowlicks were subdued with about a ton of grease for this occasion. His skin didn't look quite as tanned, and was pockmarked in a few places. Despite all of this, Carrot was still skinny as hell, and he still had those adventurous chestnut eyes, though they seemed a bit less soft than they used to be. Of course, this was very possibly due to the person he was looking at, but still...  
  
Where's Marron?  
  
I dunno, Gateau shrugged, He's around. He said he wanted to go use the bathroom, but that was ten minutes ago.  
  
Oh, I see, Carrot said.  
  
_Big gorilla... Can't even keep track of his own fiancee,' _Carrot thought, mentally snorting.  
  
OH MY GAWDS, IS THAT YOU, CARROT!?   
  
Carrot's disdainful sentiments came to a screeching halt as two strong, wiry arms locked around him from behind. Gasping for breath, he looked over his shoulder, only to get a face full of aquamarine hair. It was that woman who'd been fluttering around Gateau a few minutes ago. And she was glomping onto Carrot now. Couldn't she see his _wife_ sitting right next to them with their _kids_?!  
  
Ooooh! You're soooo cute! It's been soooo long, Carrot! the little lolita squealed as she huggled Carrot like little girls hug onto kitty-cats. Gods, for a girl, she sure had big hands...  
  
Thankfully, Gateau came to his rescue.  
  
Whoa, Milphey! Down boy! He's married, you idiot! He said, laughing as he pulled Carrot's harasser off of him.  
  
Wha-? M-Mille?! Carrot gasped, between coughs, worshiping the bountiful air he so graciously sucked into his lungs. He then took a moment to get an eyeful of the person who'd attacked him. A red, crushed velvet dress, white gloves, long, wavy green hair (it had been re-dyed, course). No tits. Yep, the guy was a trompe l'oeil work of art; beneath the make-up and the drag, he was, indeed a man. A man who had spent many of his teen years pursuing Carrot, along with Tira and Chocolate. Of course, ramrod-straight, homophobic Carrot was quite put-out by Mille's flamboyant and open bisexuality. Mille was also VERY much the touchy-feely type, and when he displayed his infatuation in a more physical way, Carrot couldn't help but feel as though insects were crawling over his skin.  
  
Nevertheless, Mille had been a good friend to Carrot all those years ago (when Mille's hand was not groping at Carrot's shirt and pants, of course), so Carrot greeted him in a relatively nice way.  
  
Hi Milphey.  
  
Hey you, Mille said, giving Carrot a smile that almost made his skin crawl, Guess what? I'm the best man!  
  
I'm sure, Carrot said, nodding, _Best (wo)man'_.  
  
Well, I'd love to chat, but I gotta go mingle, so I'll see you lovely people later, mmmkay? Mille said, giving Carrot a peck on the cheek before dashing off. Carrot made an annoyed noise in his throat as he wiped away the gift of black cherry lip gloss that Mille had so thoughtfully left him with.  
  
  
Oh, where to start... Marron moaned at the mirror, as if it were actually listening to him, like a very shiny shrink. He leaned against the wall, breathing deeply and trying to will his tensed body into relaxing... But who could relax when they were in the hot seat he'd ended up sitting on? Okay, let's see... Carrot... I'm sorry for using your bed-' no... Carrot, brother... Whether or not I like men, I'm still-' no, that's no good either... Carrot, why can't you see that love is love no matter WHAT I love? What is the big froopy deal?! Why can't-' ...Oh gods, oh gods, why do I even bother? Marron asked his reflection, and the rest of the uncaring restroom, as he paced along the tiled floor, Maybe if I just stay in here until the last second, and don't look at him at all during the actual ceremony, then I won't-  
  
You're going to have to face him sooner or later.  
  
I know that, but not just yet. I still need time to- I mean, um... face who, Mille? Marron said, whirling around, noticing the presence of his crossdressing friend, who was standing just behind him, grinning, and looking cool as a cucumber.  
  
You know very well who, Marron, Mille said, giving Marron a knowing look.   
  
I just don't know what to say to him, Mille, Marron said dejectedly.  
  
You will know, Mille said, opening the door and turning to leave, You've known all along. Whoa, and it looks like you're in for some rough company now, so I'll just be going. Bye bye!   
  
With that, Mille darted out of the restroom, the door drifting closed behind him, leaving Marron looking a tad bit corn-fused. A few seconds later, the door opened. Mille coming back to give Marron some last-second advice, no doubt.   
  
Wrongo.  
  
Hey Marron.  
  
Marron swallowed the lump in his throat before shakily replying, Hello, Carrot.  
  
Carrot took another step into the bathroom, hardly daring to look at Marron. Then, finally, he did get the courage to look.   
  
Jeezus, Marron, what is up with your hair?!  
  
I'm glad you came, Marron said, studying the toe of his shoe, and disregarding Carrot's question, I didn't think you would.  
  
To be perfectly honest, I didn't really think I would either, Carrot admitted, Why did you invite me anyway?  
  
I think you know the answer to that question, Marron said, the hint of a frown crossing his features, I think you know it very well.  
  
Marron, it's been two years.  
  
It could have been less. It _should have _ been none at all.  
  
I was angry.  
  
So was I. What you did to me made me feel ungodly angry, but did I make you feel ostracized and alone?  
  
Well, what about what _you_ did do to _me_?  
  
You ripped my heart out, Carrot! Did you come back to do it again?!  
  
Shut up, Marron, just shut up! I don't wanna do this! Carrot half-shouted, Let's not get into a big shit about who did what to who! Let's leave our petty differences in the past where they belong, for the love of whatever gods you revere!  
  
Marron nodded, You're right, Carrot. I'm sorry.  
  
And don't do that either. Neither of us have anything to apologize for. You betrayed me and I betrayed you, Carrot reasoned, We're even now, so let's start from zero, okay?  
  
Carrot, what are you saying?  
  
Look, Marron. I don't wanna get all sentimental and sappy, but, bottom line, I miss you, Carrot nodded, upon seeing Marron's shocked face, confirming his words, Hey, you're hella cool guy, no matter _what_ you marry. And you'll always be my brother, whether I like it or not. Being apart from you made me realize how much you really mean to me. I... I want you back.  
  
was Marron's response.  
  
So... will you give me a chance to be a better big brother?  
  
Are you serious?  
  
Of course, Carrot nodded, What can I say? You're my kid brother. I love you, Marron.  
  
  
  
So... um, whaddya say?  
  
Marron said nothing, but his smile spoke volumes, as did the single nod he gave Carrot, before going right up to his long-lost brother and hugging him. After recovering from his shock, Carrot managed to return the hug.  
  
I like having you for my little brother, were the words Carrot spoke before he gave Marron a quick kiss on the forehead.  
  
I love you too, Carrot, Marron finally said, his voice like velvet, soft with fraternal affection.  
  
Yeah, well, it's nice having you back, Carrot said, then released Marron, But whaddya say we bring this sentimental crap to an end and go and get you married before this turns into some pruny soap opera?  
  
Marron nodded, unable to suppress a smile as he followed Carrot out of the bathroom.  
  
  
It was a pretty small wedding. Not many guests. Just the former band members of Horny Unicornie, some of the workers Gateau had befriended when he'd worked at McDonalds, some of Marron's friends from college (including Mozerella and NOT including Biscotti), Chocolate, Tira, Carrot, and their children. And of course, Eclaire. She was one of the last guests to arrive, running up to Gateau and hugging him forcefully.   
  
So, my big brother got married! Eclaire said, her one eye sparkling as she gave Gateau a playful punch in the shoulder.   
  
Not quite yet, Gateau said, smiling and straightening his collar, Not quite yet.  
  
  
One nice thing about a Unitarian Universalist church is the sense of equality. As the name suggests, there is an undying sense of unity. Those who attend seem to be so in touch with the universe, too. The religion is not really a religion at all, seeing as there is no real Godly figure', there are no people that are better than others, and everyone is on the same rung of the social ladder, no matter who they are, or what they believe. Bottom line, they are just more open-minded. Gateau's and Marron's marriage wasn't anything legally binding (seeing as that would be against the law), but a ceremony would make the whole thing more authentic' than just plunking on rings and saying, Hey we're married. Bada-bing bada-boom. Such a place also provided a setting where they both felt at ease and secure about what they were doing. It was for this reason that Marron and Gateau chose to be married in a Unitarian Universalist church.  
  
One shining example of the diversity of the church was its reverend. The reverend was a woman, whom everyone called Mother'. The title suited her perfectly. Though still very young, and single, she was the parent of nine adopted children, and had found loving homes for countless others. Eat your heart out, Rosie O'Donnell. Mother lived to help the world, and was very down-to-earth and humble. She was also very beautiful. She looked not a day over twenty-eight, with her fair skin, impeccable grace, and obscenely long wavy hair that seemed to possess a soft, ethereal glow. She was well renowned and had been a speaker for many big charities, and the head of countless projects, when she was not speaking at the church, of course.   
  
She stepped delicately out to the front of the sanctuary, her loose white dress trailing behind her. Upon seeing her finding her position before them, everyone had a seat and quieted down. Gateau took his place at the front of the room, while Marron waited in the back. Yes, they had agreed that Marron would play the part of the bride.  
  
There was no organ in the church, so they had to settle for plain old piano music, which was perfectly fine. As Gateau watched Marron walk down the aisle, carrying a bouquet of lilacs, he couldn't remember a time when Marron had ever looked so... aaah... He was wearing a white, somewhat form-fitting tuxedo, and dainty white shoes that resembled slippers. Despite Gateau's many pleas and puppy eyes, Marron had refused to wear a wedding dress, but did wear a veil that covered the upper half of his face, and had an attached trail that went just past his shoulders. He'd done his makeup in the time he'd spent hiding out in the restroom, so Gateau hadn't seen his face since they'd entered the church. Still, Marron was... beautiful. As feminine as that sounds, there was no other word to describe him. Marron was, in an ageless, sexless way, beautiful. Like a living sculpture almost, his skin was white like porcelain, his eyes brilliant like gold, and his hair... had undergone too many different looks to fit one description. He would never fade, it seemed. Never grow old. He had partaken of the ambrosia from the fountain of youth, damned to eternal perfection as he watched the world wilt around him...  
  
Gateau slipped a finger under his collar and pulled it out a bit to give himself more breathing room. The passage of time seemed to lapse into a crawl as he watched Marron approaching, so pure and angelically graceful. Suddenly, Gateau felt very humbled. As if he was a lowly human earthling about to take the hand of a heavenly being. A fallen angel, perhaps...   
  
Gateau shook his head once to clear his mind... He was going to marry Marron. Hearing those simple words sent pleasurable shivers throughout his body. He watched his husband-to-be, who was being escorted by his green-haired crossdressing friend. The little girl who danced in front of them, leaving showers of white flower petals in her wake, he did not know. He only knew that she was one of Mother's adopted daughters. Marron had visited this church many times, and had gotten to know her. He was not a regular member, but he simply came to the Sunday services every once in a while when he felt the need for spiritual stimulation and crap like that. Either way, she was the only young girl Marron knew, so the Daughter had been nominated as flower-girl. She did indeed look very pretty in her pale blue dress with her dark hair done up in twin buns. She'd been adopted from a far- away country, and was said to be the child of an ancient tribe. Her face was rounded, but had petite, angular features, and large olive-green eyes. As she pranced along the aisle, she seemed to almost float above the ground, as if she had wings.   
  
Another of Mother's adopted children, Cerise, was the ring bearer. He was a bit older than Daughter, a Paranoid, and disabled. He rolled down the aisle in his wheelchair, behind Marron and Mille, with the ring-topped pillow in his lap, his gaze darting nervously from side to side. Cerise had been diagnosed with paranoia and tuberculosis when he was very young. The physicians at the adoption center decided that he had been born with the mental disorder, but the infection was due to the unsanitary conditions of the third-world country he came from. Despite his ragged condition, Mother had adopted Cerise, and he was fortunate enough to recover under her care. This, however, did not come without a price. The disease had done permanent damage to his legs, and left him unable to walk. As for his paranoia, it wasn't as serious as it could've been, but one of the more profound impacts of it was the fact that Cerise hardly spoke. The best explanation anyone could give as to why was that he felt anything he said could easily incriminate him. He also felt nervous and shaky when he was around strangers. This was evident by the way his sharp gaze flitted back and forth, like a bird's, almost. Like he was constantly on the lookout for someone who sought to do him harm (which was, very probably, the case). He only ever looked beyond remotely secure when he near his adoptive mother. Thirteen-year-old Cerise would latch onto Mother's dress, and nestle up against her side, looking for all the world like a little toddler. Often when Cerise did this, Mother would lift him out of the wheelchair and set him on her lap, where she would let her son lay his head upon her shoulder while she spoke gently to him. Even so, he would still clutch at her clothing as if for dear life. He could be totally relaxed otherwise, but his fists were always as firm as stone, as was his expression. The look on his face was indifferent, but if you looked closely, you could see the fear glittering in his proud, cold eyes. Despite all this, Cerise was a fine, healthy-looking young boy. He had thick, dark hair with a rat-tail in the back, and a very brown but smooth, even complexion. He had beautiful slanted eyes that were the same color as Marron's, and looked almost feline. He was the only other person Gateau could remember that had those intriguingly golden-yellow irises. It was almost creepy in a way, if he thought about it long enough. But then again, Marron was one of a kind.  
  
As Marron made his way to the front of the room, one baby-step at a time, he happened to cast a side glance over to his left. His gaze fell upon his brother. Carrot smiled and winked at him. Marron returned the smile and gave Carrot a small nod before continuing on his little journey up the aisle. He felt warm joy welling up in his heart. He was going to spend the rest of his life with Gateau, the one who'd given him love enough to help him recover what he thought he'd lost, and Carrot was welcoming him back with open arms. So life didn't suck so much after all. Go figure.  
  
After what seemed a miniature eternity, Marron was beside Gateau and the two of them were standing before Mother, who was beaming down at them in adoration.  
  
she began, We are gathered here today in the sight of the heavens, of those who keep an eternal vigil over this and all of the other three-thousand worlds, to witness the union between two souls, who have found unity already, in their own special way. Gateau Mocha, she said turning to Gateau and taking one of his broad hands into one of her own, which was soft and fair, Do you take Marron Glace to be your husband and so much more, to be your steadfast guardian, to be your loving accomplice, to stand at your side for the duration of your days in this world, and for the eternity you shall find in the next?  
  
I do, Gateau said, unable to suppress a smile.  
  
And Marron Glace, she said, turning her gentle gaze upon Marron and taking his hand, Do you take Gateau Mocha to be your husband and so much more, to be your steadfast guardian, to be your loving accomplice, to stand at your side for the duration of your days in this world, and for the eternity you shall find in the next?  
  
I do, Marron said in soft declaration.  
  
And Gentleman, she added, placing their hands together, Do you marry for life, for love, and for ever?  
  
We do.  
  
Then confirm your vow Mother said, Gateau, Marron, you may kiss.  
  
Gateau nodded once, then turned to Marron, who looked up at him almost expectantly from behind the translucent veil. As Gateau lifted the shining fabric from Marron's face, he decided his thoughts concerning the fallen angel-Marron association had been correct. Marron was wearing very little make-up. Just a very subtle purple coloring on his lips and a lot of glitter around his eyes. Who said angels had to have blue eyes and blond hair anyway? Gateau genuinely thought that, in this way, black-haired, gold-eyed Marron looked like a child of the heavens. And his smile, as slight as it was, was enough to make Gateau feel about ready to melt into a fluffy little pile of pink goo. Yes, the smile was _that_ good.  
  
As he watched Gateau lower his head to kiss Marron, and Marron rising to meet him, Carrot felt something squirm in the pit of his stomach. It could've been disgust, it could've been guilt. It could've been a bit of either. Marron was going to be stuck with another man. Ick. No, that wasn't right. Marron _chose_ to be stuck with another man. Yes, ick, but not such a bad ick this time. If Gateau could make Marron happy, then Carrot could deal with it. Even if Gateau was a dinosaur of a guy, and a real dunce, and a clumsy dork- wait... Carrot shook his head. He couldn't be thinking like that anymore. If he wanted Marron to be happy, then he'd at least have to be a bit more accepting. Then, any sounds that might've remained in the church fell away, and Carrot watched his baby brother through a deaf man's eyes. He could hear nothing. Not even his own breath. And all he could see was Marron, gently touching the lips of another man with his own. As he watched them kiss, Carrot was amazed that he felt no nausea ghosting up the back of his throat. Nothing twitched in the pit of his stomach. And no sirens went off in depths of his brain, reserved for dark, slimy Disgust. He felt nothing whatsoever, by watching his brother and Gateau united in muted passion. That in itself was a revelation.  
  
The reception that followed the service was small, but grand in its own way, because everyone was absolutely apeshit with happiness (thanks to lovely array of fine wines and liquors). Mille ended up plastering himself into passing out right in the middle of the sanctuary floor. When Marron threw the bouquet, Chocolate caught it, and the smile on her face was just so precious. Everyone danced and danced until they themselves collapsed and the afternoon became evening, and the evening became lost in laughter. There was a slew of damn-good food, and by the end of the day, everyone felt fat and drunk and peachy-why-the-hell-is-the-room-spinning-keen. All the guys were slapping Gateau on the back, and all the ladies were babbling at Marron about honeymoons in Fiji and the Bahamas. There was a delightful cake-fight that wound up sending the DJ running down the street, screaming that the church had gone crazy. Beforehand, he'd played a David Bowie song called As the World Falls Down, which resulted in Gateau and Marron slow-dancing cheek-to-cheek. This was just about the only peaceful moment in the whole wild reception.   
  
Finally, Gateau and Marron exited the church, only to find a limo waiting for them, with the traditional Just Married in a huge rainbow font across the back, along with all kinds of other happy shit written in shaving cream all over the sides. Smiling, the happy couple made their way over to the vehicle, hand in hand, and bade the driver take them home.   
  
  
As they lay together upon their all-too-small bed, Marron with his back to Gateau, they mulled over their memories in silence. Gateau remembered seeing his nephew and niece for the first time at the reception (before it had gone haywire, of course). Carrot had proudly shown his children to them, introducing them to Uncle Marron and Uncle Gateau. Gateau had sunk into a kneel, so that he wouldn't seem so imposing and had greeted the little boy, Turnip, with a smile. Turnip inquired of Daddy why he had two uncles instead of an uncle and an aunt. Daddy replied that some families were different, and the matter was left at that. Then, Tira offered to let Marron hold her daughter, Toffee. Marron carefully took her and held the baby girl in his arms as if she was made of porcelain, staring adoringly down at her angelic face.   
  
She's beautiful, he had stated softly.   
  
That's your Uncle Marron, Tira cooed at her infant daughter, Can you say   
  
Toffee just giggled happily, extended one chubby little hand, and latched onto a bit of Marron's hair. She tugged a bit, but all Marron could do was smile down at his little niece. His expression was priceless. It had also gotten Gateau into thinking that he might like to have a child. Mother was always dabbling into child welfare and adoption, so they might be able to get in touch with her, and put some serious thought/effort into acquiring a cherub of their own. But it was much too soon to be thinking such things. There was plenty of time for that. Gateau planned on being with Marron for a very long time...  
  
An amused smile crossed Marron's face as he recalled the conversation he'd had with Gateau in the limo on the way home...  
  
So, Marron, are you gonna keep your last name?  
  
Yes, I'd prefer to. You don't mind, do you?  
  
Naw. I wasn't planning on changing mine either. Marron Mocha and Gateau Glace both sound kinda wacky.  
  
I _despise_ that word.  
  
What word?  
  
  
  
  
  
It's just a horrible-sounding word, Gateau! Wacky. I hate it.  
  
Now that you mention it... So do I. Wacky. Eugh... Man, you're right! It sucks!  
  
Laughter.  
  
  
All of a sudden, Marron sensed a chemical change in Gateau's aura. He felt himself grow more and more nervous as it went from a warm, molten gold, to a searing neon-white. Marron could also hear the eager chittering of a party of lust demons that were bouncing around on Gateau's shoulders, clacking their little vulturine mandibles hungrily...  
  
Gateau's pulse quickened as he stared at the figure before him. So peaceful, so innocent, so... achingly tempting. Gateau felt a hunger moaning within him. It didn't come from his stomach and it certainly did not have anything to do with food. As he was looking at Marron (and mentally undressing him), Gateau found himself musing the forbidden musings' over his gorgeous husband. Gateau couldn't help but think that Marron, with his talented hands and agile, graceful body, would be fantastic in bed. And they _were_ married after all...  
  
No.  
  
There would be plenty of time for that later. Marron was still an innocent virgin, and he probably wanted to stay that way for at least a little while longer.   
  
Oh well. Gateau could wait. Not to say that it would be easy, but he could wait. He would wait as long as it took...  
  
You can if you want to.  
  
Hot damn and flippity joygasm! Impeccable timing, Marron. Good boy.  
  
Gateau breathed, a little baffled.  
  
You heard me, Marron replied smoothly, rolling over onto his back and turning his head so he could face Gateau. For a long, silent moment, the older man could only stare at Marron, lost for words, almost afraid to touch his mate, who seemed to sparkle with purity...  
  
Coming to his senses, Gateau brought himself closer to Marron, carefully taking the smaller man into his arms and pressing a kiss to his forehead. Marron sat up so that Gateau could easily remove his shirt. Gateau did just that. Once Marron's shirt had disappeared over the side of the bed and fallen in a forgotten heap upon the floor, Gateau gently lowered his husband onto the bed. As he looked over Marron, who was topless and lying in a blissfully supine position, the younger man blushed slightly at being stared at. Gateau paused in his pursuits, his fingers frozen on the drawstring of Marron's pants. Uncertain as to whether or not he really wanted to give Marron a chance to call it off', he asked humbly,  
  
Marron, are you sure...?  
  
Marron sighed, his golden eyes half-dimmed in contemplation, To be perfectly honest, Gateau, I'm really not. I'm never sure about anything. But I do know that one cannot go through life, or love, dwelling upon old fears of new things. Besides... Marron looked up at Gateau, his eyes shining, and his smile inviting as he whispered, You never know.  
  
**~End~**  
  
  
  
_Well, thassit peeples. Good? Bad? God-awful? All three??? I'd really love ANY comments/criticisms you have for me (I spent over four months writing this monster...oy). Oh, and if you wanna see a cover pic I drew for this story, you may do so by clicking , or by going to this address (if the link don't work); http://inky.topcities.com/art/kzmcover.jpg  
Anyway, I really hoped you liked this fic, because it's sort of my 'baby', and I only aim to please ^_^  
Plez R/R, or email moi (SalPaws@aol.com). Thanks again ^_- _


	6. Author's Notes

**_AUTHOR'S NOTES_**  
  
**Komm Zu Mir...**  
This is a line taken from a song called Wish' which can be found on the soundtrack to Lola Rennt (Run Lola Run). It's an awesome piece if I do say so myself, half in German and half in English (I included some of the lyrics in the beginning of the book). Komm Zu Mir means Come To Me'. I thought it fitting for this story.  
  
**The random quotes at the beginnings of the chapters...**   
If music is food for the soul, the people who feed it to me are Elton John, David Bowie, Moby, The Talking Heads, No Doubt, The Beatles, and various J-Pop artists/ broadway singers. Music serves as inspiration to me, and adds color to anything. I just thought I'd share some of my favorite lines with all you happy people.  
  
**Muzak...**  
Yeah, yeah, I know, nobody likes elevator music. But Gateau is kind of a dork (and I mean that in the best possible way), and know you what they say; Simple things please simple people. Gateau is a funny character to work with. On the outside, he's a big tough guy' with a softer side that acts as a weakness. It's fun to add little quirks' to charas who would otherwise be kind of... dull? For example, the paintings and the soap operas. Would you really expect a big jock-looking dude to have even quasi-artistic tendencies and a liking for overly sappy sagas on the telly? It just makes it interesting, and hints toward the fact that there is more to Gateau than initially assessed. Which brings me to Marron...  
  
**Marron...**  
I wanted to make Marron out to be a cute little femme, but not the stereotypical, fluttery tomgirl, with a lispy falsetto voice, who carries a purse and paints his nails. Marron has long hair and a beautiful visage, but he's shy and conservative and has a deep voice. He's smart, polite, and a bit of a stoic. He likes to keep to himself most of the time. He doesn't do a great deal of cross-dressing. Just enough to look different'. Marron is sensitive, but emotionally closeted, and very reluctant to show his true colors. He puts on a mask of indifference to hide his flaws and troubles. I wrote in the part about Danish to add some darkness' to Marron's supposedly perfect world, you know, to make his life less simple and beautiful than it seems. I love being surprised by dark twists to characters who seem like total good guys'. Imperfection is a wonderful thing. Marron Glace in a nutshell: On the outside, he's an unobtrusive, well-brought up young man who's just a little shy. On the inside, his heart is wailing and crying tears of blood.   
  
**Benny and Joon...**  
It's one of my favorite movies ever. I adore Johnny Depp. This film features a mentally ill young woman, Joon, who finds friendship (and love) in a humble misfit named Sam. If you enjoy sweet, humourous and quirky' love stories (NOT chick-flicks, mind you!) with a bit of a dramatic edge, please do make a point of seeing this movie. It's a real darling.   
  
  
**Zoloft...**  
I think that sadness truly is a fodder for love. Look at it this way... Two people, who have seen the ugly face of that bitchdom that we call Life, and who have no one else in the world except eachother, are going to seek comfort in one another. Once they make the connection, the feelings can only grow deeper. When you feel like the world is against you, the bonds between you and the one or two friends you have grow TIGHT. Believe me, I know...  
  
**Danish...**  
Yes, Marron's been in love before, foo'! So has Gateau, even though I failed to mention any of his past romances. Woe is me. Oh well. Anyhoo, I wrote this in as another reason as to why Marron is reluctant to be with Gateau' He's scared to death of the possibility of a second heartbreak.   
  
**The pineapple magnet...**  
Yes, there is a bit of an explaination behind this. Tales of this genre involving male/male relationships of the more steamy' variety are often referred to as citrus' stories. The note from Gateau asking Marron to meet him on the roof is held by this magnet, thus the magnet serves as a little hint' as to what's to come (the dawn of Gateau's and Marron's romance). And I'm partial to pinapple ^_^  
  
**The Roof Scene...**  
I worked like a bitch on this part (five days dedicated to this bit alone), because it really is the heart of the story. Everything beforehand creates momentum to what happens here, and everything following sort of acts as an afterglow. I also have a passion for unusual settings, and rather than having our cute little gay boys caught in the rain, taking refuge in a metro station, or at the edge of a cliff during a beeeeyoootiful sunset, or something cliche like that, I wanted to try something different. I hope you liked reading this scene as much as I liked writing it, because I believe that it is the best part of the whole froopin' story.  
  
**Duct tape and Dental floss?!...**  
::shrugs:: I thought it was creative, as morbid as that sounds.   
  
**In Marron's speech...**  
He states that when you live in a cookie cutter world, being different is a sin. This is a quote borrowed from Wierd' by Hanson. I don't really like a lot of their music, but I am partial to the lyrics of some of their songs. This is a fabulous quote anyway, and it is oh so true. When you wish upon a star, it makes no difference who you are is sung by Jiminy Cricket in Walt Disney's Pinnochio. Another great line. I love Disney movies.  
  
**Adore Jewelry and Diamond Center...**  
Yes, this is a real place. In fact, it's where my mum works. It's a beautiful store with an absolutely gorgeous 6-foot crystal chandelier. The Iranian brothers, Michael and BJ, are real too, and... Well, I can't speak for Michael, but that BJ is SCARY. Nuff said.  
  
**Perfect opposites...**  
I truly believe that the yin and yang rule everything in this and any of the three thousand worlds. I also love the rule of opposites attracting. Think of it like a jigsaw puzzle; pieces with opposite edges connect. Gateau and Marron are so cute together because they are so different. Watching them work out their differences and show their true colors is just so endearing. What can I say? I love quirky romance. Call me a fluff-ball goth. I'm a walking talking paradox, aren't I?  
  
**Abercrombie and Fitch...**  
Their clothes defile my eyeballs, and they do child labor. If you care about poor little children in third world countries, boycott Abercrombie and Fitch. Gap too, which sucks, because that means I can't buy anymore Docs (Gap recently bought out Doc Martins .) Anyway, Abercrombie and Fitch is over-hyped, and over priced. Eighty bucks for freaking CARGO PANTS, sheesh!  
  
**Chocolate's sad little rant...**  
She says, Make me feel as though I'm a silly toy, a pet he can pick up and then drop like a newborn girraffe. Unlike most of the wierdles that show up in my work, there is actually a bit of trivia behind this comment; Giraffes give birth standing up, and their babies fall six feet to the ground! Yowsa.  
  
**On Uniterian Universalism...**  
What can I say? I love this religion. It's so diverse and non-imposing, it can hardly be considered a religion at all. It's also the only place I can see as a possibility for gay marriage. Catholic and Christian churches won't do it for obvious reasons. Plus, it's the only religion I have somewhat reasonable knowledge about (I'm a bit of a Uniterian Universalist myself). And yes, I did make up the reverend's speech. Hey, I haven't been on this earth very long, and I have no clue how gay marriages work, so I had to do the best I could. Please don't hurt me!  
  
**So, is Carrot a changed man?...**  
Not really... You can't change your perpesctive that quickly. Especially if you have a stubborn personality like Carrot's. He's still a buggering homophobe, but less so, seeing as homosexuality is a part of his life now. Marron is his brother after all, and nothing can change that. He'll never stop being Marron's brother, and he'll never stop loving Marron for that reason, if for none other.   
  
**Wacky...**  
I hate this word with a passion. There are few words that are so excrutiatingly stupid. Along with Robes', Wacky' is the ultimate piss-Fala-off word. It's a terrible word, I'm sorry! Wacky! Arrrrgh!  
**  
The ending...**  
I didn't have any cliffhanger intentions. You know very well what is going to happen next (and if you don't, you are a sad sack of shit). I wanted an ending that wasn't really an ending at all. I don't really like bada-bing bada-boom endings, where it's like, you heard the story and now it's over so you can forget it. In movies, and books alike, I like the story to stick with me, and if it ends with a classic and they lived happily ever after kind of thing, I tend to drop it and move onto the next thing. Have you ever seen the Matrix? That movie has one of the most excellent endings I have ever seen. I don't know wether to classify the last part of Komm Zu Mir as a happy ending or not. I think it's more of a All that needed to be said was said, finale. After all, There are no happy endings... Because nothing ends. (Smendrik... The Last Unicorn')  
  



End file.
